


I Didn't Ask For This...

by Sera_Necto23



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Corporal Punishment, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Love Stories, Love/Hate, M/M, Male Slash, Obsession, Romance, Secret Relationship, Story within a Story, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 35
Words: 168,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1583354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sera_Necto23/pseuds/Sera_Necto23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...Walt abruptly turned the car around and headed in the direction of Jesse’s house. He was going to accomplish this. In the short time he had left, he was going to have it all and Jesse would just have to accept it.</p><p>An obsessive, passionate relationship that takes place behind the scenes of Breaking Bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is written for everybody who loves Jesse and Walt. 
> 
> Scenes and original dialogue from season 1 are used. Foreshadowing of future seasons, with re-interpretation of some dialogue.
> 
> This story explores some difficult subject matter and contains scenes and imagery that may be disturbing.

Walter White lay beside his sleeping wife and contemplated Jesse Pinkman. 

Pinkman was much as he remembered him –brittle, smart-mouthed, a ruffle of sandy blonde hair, delicate features incongruous with his garish, oversized clothes and adopted street cred vernacular.

As he approached Pinkman in the dark driveway of his quiet suburban neighbourhood, the kid was skittish, but met Walt’s gaze defiantly through their brief conversation.  His eyes, a well-remembered bright blue, as wide and full-lashed as a doll’s, were filled with surprise, then laughing incredulity and finally, consternation, as he registered the significance of Walt’s words.

Blackmail. Coercion.  But also opportunity.  Could Pinkman see it?  There was intelligence there, although admittedly well hidden.  Walt had seen it in class, an occasional flash of sunlight in a sky otherwise clouded with inattention, shuffling chatter and backtalk.  Jesse Pinkman.  His mischievous, engaging, problematic, aggravating former student.  Jesse. 

We're going to make money together Jesse, thought Walt, turning over on his side and closing his eyes.  You're going to listen to me and see that I am right.  You are my means to this end, and in the end you will see that I am right, you will thank me.

His wife slept quietly on beside him, dreaming.

***

Jesse slouched in the patio chair, beer in hand, sneakered feet splayed out on the concrete driveway of his aunt’s house.   His life had been shit recently and this latest development totally on par.  If you asked him what could drag down a day already demolished by the loss of his partner, his lab, his money and his inventory, well, being cornered at his own place and blackmailed by that dried up old fuck Mr. High school chemistry teacher White would be a definite contender.

Mr. White.  Jesse seethed.  He remembered Mr. White surveying his class of students with icy green eyes, always ready with a sarcastic remark.  He remembered his resentment and embarrassment throughout the year as assignments and tests were returned to him with failing grades and caustic commentary, written in red.   It had been such a relief to flunk out of that class, to be done with that muddle of formulas and equations that would never in this lifetime aggravate him again.  To walk away from Mr. White, that judging prick.

And now.  “I never expected you’d amount to much.”  Mr. White’s words, his first to Jesse in five years.  And then, this unbelievable proposal, to partner as a meth cook?  And no chance to say no. 

“I can’t believe I’m inflicted with that old bastard,” thought Jesse.   He took another swig of beer, and lowered his head into the collar of his baggy jacket.   He considered various scenarios -confronting Mr. White and daring him to follow through on his low threat, threatening him _back_ , he’s a teacher for Chrissakes, leaving town.   But nothing stood out with any clarity, and all he could do was watch, incensed and anxious, as Mr. White’s drab beige Aztec backed into his driveway.

Walt observed Jesse as he came around the car to open the hatchback.  The kid was wearing a jacket that could wrap around two of him, and an absurd black wool beanie hat pulled low over ears and forehead.   He was slouching and glowering at him, a well-remembered posture.

Walt beckoned him over gruffly and turned to unload his supplies.  Jesse came reluctantly and stood staring at the assortment of paraphernalia Walt had stolen from the school lab.  Walt started explaining the use of the different flasks, his enthusiasm for his project returning, causing him to forget for a moment the black spot on his lungs, the black spot that had been hovering, lately, at the edges of his vision as he made his way through the days.

“…a round bottom boiling flask, 5,000 milliliters.”  Walt finished his summary of the stolen equipment and smiled, raising both hands towards Jesse in a beneficent gesture, one hand still clasping the boiling flask.  Jesse returned Walt’s gaze sceptically, and then, reluctantly acquiescing to the conversation, indicated another, large bottomed flask with a graceful, long neck. 

“Well I cook in one of those.”

Walt was aghast.  “This is a volumetric flask.  You wouldn’t cook in one of these.”

Jesse glared at him.  “Yeah.  I do.” 

Walt felt a familiar irritation rising in him, the aggravation of years of effort to impart basic information into blank, unwilling young minds. 

“No, you don’t.  A volumetric flask is for general mixing and titration.   You wouldn’t apply _heat_ to a volumetric flask, that’s what a boiling flask is for.  Did you learn _nothing_ from my chemistry class?”

“No.  You _flunked me_.  Remember?”

“No wonder.”  Walt turned back to the supplies.

 _”Prick.”_ Jesse thrust his face close to the older man.  “Now let me tell you something else.  This ain’t chemistry.  Okay?  This is art.  _Cooking_ is art.  And the shit _I_ cook is the bomb, so don’t be telling me.”

Walt snorted.  “The shit you cook is shit.  I saw your set up.  Ridiculous.”   He gazed intently at Jesse, willing him to see.  “You and I will not make garbage.  We will produce a chemically pure and stable product which performs as advertised.   No adulterants, no baby formula, no chilli powder.”

Jesse couldn’t believe his ears.  Could this situation get any worse?  “No.  No, chilli P’s my signature!”

“Not anymore!”

Jesse rolled his eyes towards his former teacher, then skywards, and shook his head.  “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.”

After some additional unfriendly conversation, they finished unloading the car and stacked the supplies against the wall of Jesse’s garage.

“Listen,” Jesse said.  “This stuff doesn’t stay more than a day.”

Walt was confused.  “…I thought we were going to cook here.”

“No -we’re not going to cook here!  This is my house, I don’t shit where I eat.”

“Well then, where are we going to work?”

Jesse turned towards Walt, exasperated, “You tell me.  This is _your deal_ , man.  You want to smoke it up, smoke it up at your house.”  A pause.  Walt stared back, wordless.  “No?  I didn’t think so.  _Oh well_.”

Walt looked at the younger man.  In the dimly lit garage, Jesse’s white face was luminous against the dark wooden wall, his bright eyes hostile blue orbs.  Walt took a breath and clamped down on an angry retort.

“Well…what if we rented those self-storage places…”

“No.  They’re on to that.  Got dogs that sniff around.”  Jesse’s gaze moved away into the distance, his voice losing its harsh edge.  “RV.  That’s what you want.”

“What, like a Winnebago?”

Jesse glanced back at Walt, his face brightening for the first time since their exchange of words the night before.  “Yeah…a mobile meth lab?  That’d be the bomb, I mean, drive way out in the boonies, be all evasive…”  He smiled.

Gazing at Jesse’s smile, Walt felt a loosening in his chest, irritation dropping away.  He wanted to give that smile a hundred shiny, new RV’s, a thousand mobile meth labs, crossing on quiet wheels over sandy desert roads.  “I’ll buy you your RV.” he said slowly.  “I’ll get you the money.  You make the arrangements.”

***

Sitting in his car, Jesse watched Mr. White through the rear view mirror, walking across the credit union parking lot towards him, carrying an envelope of cash. 

The man walked stiffly, tensely, peering around for observing eyes as he handed Jesse the envelope through the car window. 

Jesse rolled his eyes and counted the money.  “Dude, this isn’t even seven grand.  My guy wants eighty-five.”

“This is all the money I have in the world," Walt replied.  "You’re a drug dealer.  Negotiate.”

Jesse laughed, surprised.  “You are _not_ how I remember you from class.  I mean, like, _not at all_.”

“I’ve got to go.”  Mr. White turned away.

“Wait!" Jesse called after him.  "Wait...hold on.  Tell me why you’re doing this.  Seriously.”

Mr. White turned back.  Asked, “Why do you do it?”

Jesse grimaced _(what kind of question was that?)_  “...Money… mainly.”

Mr. White shrugged.  “There you go.”

Jesse wasn't buying that.  “Nah…come on.  Man, some straight like you, giant stick up his ass, all of a sudden, age, what sixty…”

Mr. White frowned.  “ -I’m fifty.”

“…he’s just gonna _break bad_?"  Jesse continued.  "It’s weird, is all, okay?  It doesn’t compute.  Look.  If you’ve gone crazy?  Or something?  I mean, if you’ve gone _crazy_.  Or depressed?  I’m just saying....That’s something I need to know about.  Okay?  I mean, that, that _affects_ me.“   Jesse fell quiet, watching Mr. White, waiting.

Mr. White smiled at him, silhouetted against the blue hills in the distance.  “I am AWAKE,” he said to Jesse.

Jesse stared at him.  “… _What?_ ”

“Buy the RV,” Mr. White replied briskly.  Walked towards his car.

Jesse stared after him, perplexed.  Mr. White called back over his shoulder, “We start tomorrow.”  He drove away.

Jesse sat there silently. 

Regarded the faraway hills.  Shook his head. 

Awake.

***

The desert. 

Harsh blue sky arching over orange cliffs, pale sand, dry scrub brush stretching out towards dusty horizons.  The dilapidated, lumbering RV parked on level ground, hidden in a fork between rocky outcrops.

Walt stood and stretched after the long drive.  Breathed the dry air.  Gazed around.  The kid was standing some ways away from him, looking down from his perch on the cliff, his clothes flapping around slender arms and legs.

They waved.  Jesse’s voice was cheerful as he reported back his findings.  “Yeah, nothing but cows!  Got some big cow house way out that way, like two miles, but I don’t see nobody.”

Walt’s eyebrows lifted.  “Cow house?”

Jesse paused, squinted at Walt.  “Yeah.  Where they live.  The _cows._ ”

Silence from Walt.

“Well whatever man," Jesse said eventually.  "Yeah, let’s cook here!”

“—God help me,” Walt turned away, muttering.

Hanging a couple of plastic hangers on the RV’s side mirror, Walt started to take off his clothes.  Jesse, ambling back toward the RV, stopped dead as Walt removed his pants.  "Um...What are you doing?”

“These are my good clothes," Walt replied.  "I can’t go home smelling like a meth lab.”

Jesse was rooted to the spot.  “Yeah… you can.  I do.”

Finished with hanging up his pants, Walt unbuttoned and shrugged off his shirt, revealing an unexpectedly powerful build -a broad torso, muscular arms.

Jesse gestured tentatively towards the white jockey shorts.  “Those?  Wow…those, uh…you’re keeping those on.  Right?”

Without answering, Walt hung up his shirt.  Then, unclothed except for underwear, socks and shoes, he turned and faced Jesse.  They surveyed each other silently.

With a cold eye on Jesse, Walt turned to enter the RV.  “Come on.  Daylight’s burning.” 

“Oh my God…”  Jesse watched the butt of his former teacher disappearing through the dark doorway.  He grabbed his camera and hurried after him.

Mr. White was setting up at the counter, black rubber apron tied around his waist, its strings dangling over his backside, his hairy bare legs ending incongruously in cotton socks and brown leather shoes.

Jesse aimed the camera, taking it in.  “Wow, this is uh…this is a good look for you.  And you’re maybe only the world’s _second_ biggest homo.”  Tilted the camera up and down the man in front of him, collecting the full effect.

“Would you shut up and help me?”  Mr. White asked.

Another shot of the butt.  “Oh yeah…Yeah, work it baby.  Work _it!”_

Mr. White glanced back.  “Turn that off!”  He grabbed the camera out of Jesse’s hands.

“Hey!”

Mr. White batted Jesse’s hands away and put the camera behind him on the counter.  Then he grabbed Jesse’s upper arms and shook him, hard.

Jesse was shocked.  “Hey, take your hands off me, bitch!”

Mr. White shook him again, his hands hard enough to bruise.

“Let’s get something straight,” he said through his teeth.  “We are not screwing around with this.  I'm not tolerating any more of your moronic smart ass shit.  You are going to focus and apply yourself.  I’m not wasting my time here.”

Jesse struggled out of Mr. White’s grip.  “Look man, I was joking!  I mean, you’ve got to okay?  I mean, look at you, it’s either laugh or cry!  And I’m serious, don’t you _ever_ touch me again.  Keep your homo ass at a distance, yo.”  He rubbed his arms, glaring.

Walt considered his young partner.  He took a step towards him, paused.   Jesse edged backwards, eyes wary.

Walt grinned suddenly.  He reached up and lightly slapped Jesse’s cheek.  Jesse’s eyes widened.

“You’re still a brat," Walt said to him.  "Now…you told me that the stuff you cooked was   -‘the bomb,’ I believe your words were.  I’d like to see your work.  Can we get started?”

***

Jesse was examining the finished pan of crystal meth.

“This is glass grade," he said in an awed voice.  "You got…Jesus, you got crystals in here two inches, three inches long.  This is pure glass!  You’re a goddamn artist!  This is _art,_ Mr. White!”

Walt was resting in one of the RV’s vinyl chairs, legs sprawled, eyes closed, his glasses clasped loosely in his aproned lap.  At Jesse’s words, he stirred, put his glasses back on, looked up.  “Actually it’s just basic chemistry, but thank you Jesse, I’m glad it’s acceptable.”  His voice was tired.

Jesse’s face was open, lively.  Walt took in his gaze, admiration bestowed.

“Acceptable?  You’re the goddamn Iron Chef!"  Jesse said.  "Every chip head from here to Timbuktu is going to want a taste!”   Jesse turned back to the meth pan, rubbing his hands.  “Now I gotta…I gotta _try_ this.”

Walt stood up quickly.  “No.  No.   No, we only sell it.  We don’t use it.”

Jesse looked back at Walt, his eyes narrowing.  “Okay, since when?  Listen, you’ve been watching way too much Miami Vice.   That ain’t happening.”

Walt observed him.  Jesse’s smile had closed off, eyes on him but at a remove, blue sky behind a windowpane.  His slim body was braced between Walt and the pan of meth on the counter.  Walt looked away, sighing.  He shrugged.  “So.  What now?” 

Jesse stared at him, quizzical.

“How do we proceed?”  Walt elaborated.

Jesse nodded, his face brightening again.  “We cook more tomorrow.  In the meantime, I know just the guy to talk to.”

***

The next day, Walt busied himself with the second batch, waiting for Jesse’s return.

He thought about the previous day’s cook.

Jesse had moved about their rudimentary laboratory quickly, competently, stepping lightly around Walt as they mixed and measured.  His hands had been controlled and assured as they tapped out the powdered compounds. 

Walt had watched the younger man carefully while they worked, making suggestions in a quiet voice and restraining his commentary (as much as could be expected) during a misstep.  He had insisted Jesse put on his gas mask early on, handing it to him and waiting while Jesse tightened it properly.  He wasn’t going to be responsible for the young idiot poisoning himself.

Jesse had glanced occasionally at Walt, turning a look on him that Walt knew well from his time with his students –a look of cautious inquiry _(am I doing this right?)_ As the batch progressed, Jesse had also eyed his former teacher with increasing respect, an expression that Walt could not remember previously associating with him, and one he found surprisingly gratifying.

Walt had returned Jesse’s glance periodically, an encouraging flicker of eyes over the black gas mask.   Jesse was reasonably good at this.  Better than expected, really.  Engaged, he could really make something of himself here.  Like Walt himself, Jesse had a feel for the chemistry, the delicate, precise process.  A raw capability to be honed and developed.  With proper guidance.

Jesse had gone to talk to a potential buyer.  When was he getting back?  Walt wanted to show him some additional refinements to the cook.

***

He should have known the kid would mess things up.

***

Jesse had been knocked unconscious when Mr. White poisoned Emilio, his murderous former colleague, and Krazy 8, the would-be buyer.  He woke in the stranded RV, saw the two bodies in the back, and stumbled out, face disfigured by his fall.  He made his way shakily over to Mr. White, who was standing stunned, in the road, a gun held unaccountably in one hand.

“What happened?”  Jesse asked in a hushed voice.  He looked rapidly back and forth between the RV and Mr. White.  “What’d you do to them?”

Mr. White regarded Jesse blankly.  “Red phosphorus… in the presence of moisture and accelerated by heat, yields phosphorus hydride.   Phosphine  gas.  One good whiff and…”  Mr. White waved the gun vaguely.  “…poof.” 

Jesse was silent, appalled.

Mr. White leaned over.  Vomited.  Then recovering, took a deep breath.  “We gotta…clean this up.”  He gestured absently towards the RV, then walked unsteadily away.

Jesse stared after him.     

Two men, dead.   _(Poof)._    Emilio, his childhood friend and Krazy-8, Emilio’s cousin.  Men he'd known and worked with.  Men who'd been out to kill them.  Mr. White had _gassed them_.  Phosphine gas.  Jesus.  He shook his head, still wordless.  Then followed after his former teacher.

***

Krazy-8 wasn’t dead after all.

***

A body in the RV, parked in Jesse’s driveway.  A semi-conscious man u-locked by the neck in Jesse’s basement. 

Jesse and Walt arguing furiously in Jesse’s living room.  

Both of them on their feet.  Walt was leaning towards Jesse, his voice, pounding, metallic.

“…we have got a _body_ in that RV and it’s getting _warmer_ outside, understand?  We have got to do something about that soon.  And in a way that no one will ever find it.  Now that last part is very, _very_ important.”  He lowered his voice.   “Therefore, it seems to me, that our best course of action would be…”  Walt paused.  “…chemical disincorporation.”

Jesse stared at Walt, at a loss.

“…Dissolving in strong acid.”

Jesse sat down abruptly, nauseated.  “Oh man, that’s messed up.”  His voice was choked.  “You’re not, you’re not serious.”   Walt was quiet.  Jesse’s voice rose, his face appalled.  “You’re serious?  Who’s going to do _that?_ And don’t look at me!”

Walt turned away.  “I guess we’ll both do it together.”

Jesse reached an entreating hand towards Walt’s back.  “No Mr. White, okay?  I’m not good with dead bodies. “

Walt turned.  “We are in this 50/50.”

Jesse put his head in his hands.

Walt was thinking about the man in the basement.  That was also a pressing problem.  “I guess the only other fair way to go about this would be that one of us deals the body situation, and the other one of us deals with the…Krazy-8 situation.”

Jesse raised his head.

Walt hesitated, went on.  “…In a scenario like this, I don’t suppose it is bad form to just…flip a coin?”  He looked down, drew a coin from his pocket.   Held it up towards Jesse.  “Heads or tails?”

Jesse’s eyes were glistening with tears.   _Murder?_  This couldn't be happening.  “No…I’ll…I’ll do the body in the acid, okay?”  His voice broke.

Walt observed Jesse's distressed face.  He briefly considered being generous.  Giving the kid a break.  But that thought was fleeting...after all, it was _Jesse_  who had been dumb enough to inflict those two maniacs on them.  Walt continued to hold the coin between his fingers.  He met Jesse’s eyes. 

“Heads.  Or tails?”

***

 Heads. It was Mr. White who had ended up with the job of cold blooded murder.   _Thank God._  Jesse closed his eyes in relief.

***

Jesse and Mr. White were mopping up Emilio’s remains.   The bloody soup of Emilio’s body, broken down by hydrofluoric acid, had eaten through Jesse’s bathtub and right through to the floor below.  He and Mr. White were on their knees, gas masks on, mopping, sponging the disgusting mess, pouring bucket after bucket of Jesse’s former friend down the toilet.  Mr. White turning a sour eye on him from time to time.  Pissed off because Jesse had ignored his advice and dissolved Emilio’s body in his ceramic bathtub, disintegrating under the acid, rather than in a polyethylene plastic bin as instructed.   Fighting nausea, Jesse was tempted to squeeze a bloody sponge over Mr. White’s nerdy bastard head, but restrained himself.

***

Jesse drove off after another loud argument.   “I didn’t ask for any of this!”  Mr. White, that fuck, occupying his house, kicking down his bathroom door as he attempted to smoke some crystal, cursing Jesse for exposing him to Emilio and Krazy 8 “—damn junkie!”   Krazy-8, imprisoned in his basement.    Mr. White stalling.  “Fucking do it already!”  Mr. White, grabbing him _again_ , slamming him against his car.  Escaping finally to Wendy’s place, the run down motel where she worked as a hooker.   Cell phone _off._ Let Mr. White sweat.   

***

One day fading into the next.

His house.  How was he supposed to live there now?

***

Two days later, Jesse returned, pulling cautiously into his driveway.  It was late in the afternoon.  The house was silent.  The RV, stripped bare.  Bathroom, clean and dry.  Hesitantly Jesse descended to the basement.  It was empty, clean.  Krazy-8 gone.  No sign anyone had ever been down there.  The u-lock was lying on a concrete ledge.   Jesse slowly picked it up. 

Two men dead, disappeared.  Disposed of in his house.  _Dissolved_.

Nauseated again, Jesse bent forward, clutching the u-lock.  He sank to the floor.  A terrible weight had descended on his chest, pinning him to that spot.  He sat silently in the dark basement.

Time passed.

Soft steps, a creak.  Jesse looked up.  Mr. White.

“I drove by, saw your car.”  Mr. White’s voice was quiet.  “Are you okay?”

Jesse’s voice was bitter.  “Oh yeah, man, I’m a-okay.” 

After a moment, Mr. White sat down beside him.  Said, “Jesse, remember, those men were going to kill us.  It was us or them.”

Jesse drew a breath.  “Mr. White, that doesn’t help me much," he replied.  "It’s…like…I can feel them _still here_ , almost like they’re…leaning on me."

“A weight.”

“Yeah.”

“The weight of their souls.”

“Oh God, Mr. White, don’t say that.”

“Jesse, you didn’t kill those men," Mr. White said.  "I did.  That weight belongs with _me_.”

Jesse bowed his head.  He understood Mr. White's point, but it still didn't help, really.  He said nothing.  Then Mr. White touched him, tentatively.  

Walt looked at the kid’s bent head, the smooth nape, the knobs of Jesse’s spine disappearing into another absurd, baggy shirt.  Jesse was so young, just a few years older than Walt’s son.  And he was right.  He _hadn’t_ asked for any of this.  Walt hesitated, then put his hand on the kid's neck, a gesture of comfort.  Jesse’s skin was soft as a girl’s.  Walt paused again. Then he rubbed his fingers back and forth.

Jesse felt the rough, warm hand, stroking him.  His eyes closed.  Mr. White was speaking but Jesse had stopped listening.  He was exhausted, the events of the past few days catching up with him.  Mr. White was a warm, solid shape in the darkness, a clean laundry soap smell on his clothes. 

“You need some sleep,” Mr. White said.  “It’s time you were in bed.  Come on.”  Mr. White’s arm around his back, urging him to his feet. 

Jesse climbed tiredly to his bedroom.  He heard Mr. White, moving around downstairs.  A faucet running. 

Walt paused in the doorway of Jesse’s bedroom, a glass of water in his hand.  Jesse was sitting motionless on the bed, his shoulders sagging.  Walt stepped forward.

“Here, I brought you this.”  He held out the water.  Without looking at him, Jesse took the glass.  Drank.  Handed it back.  Walt felt himself smile.  He put the glass on the bedside table.  Stood above Jesse’s bent head. 

“So…I guess this is it,” Walt said.

Jesse was silent.

“We don’t see each other again," Walt continued.  "You don’t call me, I don’t call you.  And we don’t talk about this.  _To anyone._   Ever.”

Silence.

Walt waited another moment, then turned to go.  “Well, I—“

Jesse suddenly raised his head.  His eyes were blazing.  “This is all _your fault!”_   he spat at Walt.  “How am I supposed to sleep here now?  Huh?  You leave me here...go off, to your… _life..._ and I’m here in this house...me and the _dead people_ , Mr. White, the _souls,_ as you say _._ Thanks a _million._ ”

Walt’s face twisted.  “Jesse…”

“Get the fuck out of here!”

Walt reached out a conciliating hand.  Jesse batted it away.  His voice was harsh.  “Don’t you fucking _touch me_ you fucking old bastard!” 

Walt’s expression tightened.  He looked at Jesse, glaring up at him with accusatory blue eyes.  The kid's pure young face, still beautiful despite his recent fall.  Jesse _was_ beautiful. So rare in a man, a beauty like that. He remembered he'd thought that before, too, an earlier memory from his time as Jesse’s teacher.  A beautiful, troublesome, irresponsible boy.  Jesse was more sensitive than he expected, a surprise.  But still, thoughtless, self centred, mouthy.  Aggravating. 

Like he remembered.  

Walt was suddenly furious.   That this kid, spitting and cursing in front of him, could be so… _ungrateful._    He'd saved Jesse’s _life,_ taken those terrible, necessary deaths onto himself, sparing Jesse that responsibility.  And now, this, this _attitude?_  Was he supposed to be… _understanding_ here?

He grabbed Jesse’s shoulders and flung him violently backwards.  Jesse landed hard against the mattress.  His eyes widened.      

“Do you think I’m not _bothered_ by all this?”  Walt said to him through clenched teeth.  “Do you think I _wanted_ those deaths on my conscience, did I ask for that?   You show up with those men, put me in an _impossible position_ , and after everything you _disappear_ for two goddamn days, leaving me with this goddamn mess, no clue where you are, worrying -do you ever think of anyone but yourself?  Did you think it was _easy_ for me to do what I did?”

Jesse stared up, wide eyed.  Walt was abruptly, painfully aware of him.  Jesse's lithe young body, sprawled before him on the bed.  The bright blue eyes, thickly framed with golden lashes, and the finely shaped mouth, slightly open, showing a flash of white teeth, pink tongue.  A scatter of golden freckles across delicate features. 

It had been difficult, working so closely with this gorgeous young person who continually defied him, ignored his advice, backtalked him, and required endless cajoling and negotiation.  And Walt’s growing consciousness of the kid’s beauty had put him under a surprising amount of strain. Did Jesse understand the effect of his looks on people?  He must, on some level...he was certainly used to getting his own way.  Walt had been tempted to spank the aggravating brat more than once.  Or something. 

Jesse.   

There was a sudden vision in Walt's mind.  Two doorways, both open, beckoning.  One, brightly illuminated, leading towards home and sanity.  But the other, opening onto a vast shadowy space.  A doorway like the hatch of an airplane.  Opening to...what?  

He looked down at the young man, before him.  The blue eyes.  Jesse's breath, rasping shallowly over parted lips.  

As if from a distance, Walt saw himself sit down beside his partner. He leaned forward, placed his hands deliberately on either side of Jesse's head. Jesse shrank back. But otherwise he didn't move. Walt leaned closer. Jesse stared up at him, wordless. Walt felt his own breath, painfully rapid in his chest. Jesse's beautiful face, trapped between his hands.  

“Do you think I _want_ to leave you here?” Walt whispered.

***

Suddenly, shockingly, Mr. White kissed him.  

***

The lips were hard, and there was a bristly moustache rasping Jesse’s face. This was _not_ like being kissed by a girl. With a muffled sound of protest, Jesse pushed at his former teacher, trying to move him. Mr. White pressed him down, his large body heavy and warm, smothering. Jesse could feel the bulge of Mr. White's cock. Appalled, he twisted under the older man, trying to get away. Turned his head to escape from Mr. White's mouth. Mr. White grabbed his jaw in response, holding him in place, his strong fingers and thumb digging into Jesse’s cheeks. Jesse began to struggle.

Without breaking the kiss, Mr. White reached his other hand up under Jesse’s sweatshirt.  He found a nipple, twisted it sharply.

A sudden dart of pleasure.  

It ran through Jesse's body with paralyzing force.  Jesse froze, shocked.  Nothing in his experience had prepared him for this, being handled so roughly like this.  This was out of his frame of reference, totally.

Mr. White brushed a callused thumb over his nipple and twisted it again. 

Jesse moaned.

At the sound, Walt abruptly released him.  He twitched off his glasses, laying them aside.  Then he took Jesse’s face in both hands and settled back down, lying on Jesse heavily.  Started kissing him again.  Jesse wasn’t exactly responding, but wasn’t struggling to avoid the kisses either, his body increasingly pliant.  His eyes had closed. 

Walt took his hands away from Jesse’s face and shoved his sweatshirt up, exposing the kid's bare torso.  Shaking slightly, he ran his palms over the silky skin then bent his head, biting and licking at Jesse’s nipples. At this, Jesse moaned again, twisting under Walt’s mouth. Walt’s hand found Jesse’s cock, gripping it firmly through his jeans. At the same time, he fastened his mouth hard on the smooth skin below Jesse’s collar bone in a painful, sucking kiss. 

“Ouch!”  cried Jesse.  “God, Mr. White, stop it.”

“Quiet.”  Walt said, his lips against Jesse’s skin.  Sitting back, he unfastened Jesse’s belt, then dragged his jeans and undershorts down, exposing him.  Took Jesse in his mouth.  Clamped both hands around Jesse’s waist to hold him still, his tongue curling around Jesse's straining shaft.

Pleasure crashed over Jesse in a wave.  Mr. White’s mouth was hot and wet, feeding on him, devouring.  Jesse was stranded, helpless under the sensation.  He bucked upwards involuntarily, seeking more.  Mr. White responded, pulling Jesse’s cock further into his mouth, then scraping his tongue along the shaft and over the sensitive glans.  Jesse was gasping.  His head fell back, his hands finding Mr. White’s shoulders.   Mr. White’s hands were at his own clothes, unbuckling and unfastening.  He reached upwards and pulled roughly on Jesse's arm, dragging one hand downwards.  “Hold it,” he muttered, pushing his cock against Jesse’s palm.  Jesse’s fingers curled around him.  At the same time, Mr. White enveloped Jesse’s cock again, his mouth closing fully, completely with a final, unbearable pressure.  Jesse’s orgasm ripped through him and he spilled into Mr. White’s mouth, crying out, at the same time that Mr. White shuddered and released into his palm.

Jesse lay quietly, breath slowing.  Mr. White's head was resting on his stomach. 

Jesse stirred.  He forcefully shoved Mr. White off, shielding himself as he re-fastened his pants.

Walt tidied his own clothes, then stretched out to lay beside Jesse on the bed.  He gazed at Jesse’s face.  The kid’s eyes were wide, dismayed.  He looked very young.

“What _was_ that?”  Jesse whispered.  “Mr. White...?”

Walt considered.  He was slowly coming back into himself, withdrawing from that sensation of insane, overwhelming freedom.  He said carefully, “I think… Jesse…that it was a reward.”

Jesse frowned.  “A reward?”

“I saved our lives," Walt said.  "Killed two men.  Saved _your_ life Jesse.   And I’ve been –we’ve both been- through a very trying time.  So yes.  I guess you could call it a...reward.”

Jesse sat up.  “A reward.  This.  You mean _me_?  I was your _reward_?”

Walt gazed at him.  The kid was getting upset again, his expression turbulent. 

Walt smiled.  “You’re right Jesse.  Yes, you were my reward.”   His smile turned inward, took on a bitter edge.  “A reward for a life well lived.” 

Jesse looked distressed.  “I’m not a faggot.”

“I never said you were.”

A pause.  “So what happens now?" Jesse asked.  

Walt didn't answer.

"Mr. White?”

Walt stopped smiling.  “I guess...now...I go home and leave you here, Jesse.   We go our separate ways."  Said to him, "That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

Jesse looked down.  “Yeah.”

Jesse was staring down at his hands.  Walt regarded the bent, untidy blonde head.  After a moment, he sat up and put his arms around him, resting his cheek against the kid's soft hair.  “You'll be alright Jesse," he said.  "Remember, those men’s deaths are on me and they were unavoidable.  Please try not to let them worry you."  Walt hesitated.  Then continued.  "And…obviously… _don’t tell anyone_.”

Jesse said nothing.  Didn't look at him. 

Walt felt the moment stretch out. He sat beside Jesse unmoving, unable to move, trapped by Jesse's still silence. Then with an effort, he stood, retrieved his glasses. Turned to Jesse and gently pushed him down. Pulled the quilt over Jesse’s shoulders, tucking it around him carefully. Straightened again, looking down at the kid on the bed. Jesse lay cocooned in the soft bundle of quilt, gazing up at Walt quietly. The beautiful, troubled young face.  

“Try to get some sleep,” Walt said to him.  He hesitated, then bent and kissed Jesse’s temple, mouth lingering for a moment.  Breathed Jesse in.  

To remember this, later.

“Goodbye.”  He left the room.

Jesse watched Mr. White go.  Then he turned away, curling onto his side.  Heard Mr. White moving quietly downstairs.  The sound of a door opening and closing.  A car engine, rumbling, fading away.  He closed his eyes. 

The souls of the dead inhabiting the room, resting on him.

***

The next morning.  Sun shining brightly through the windows of Jesse’s house.

Jesse looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.  Just under his left collarbone, a dark red mark, a hickie, in fact, bloomed on his skin.

Mr. White had left it there.

The image of his former teacher rose in Jesse’s mind.  The craggy, weathered face, the guarded expression behind the wire rim glasses, rarely smiling.  The nerdy haircut, moustache, clothes.  Middle aged.  A _guy_.

Mr. White’s mouth, kissing him, sucking on him.  Mr. White’s hands holding him down.  Hurting him.  At the memory, Jesse flushed red with embarrassment. 

It had been completely sick and appalling and… _really hot_.

He touched the mark on his skin.

He was going to forget about this.  These last few days were a bad dream and he was going to wake up and forget.

***

Jesse rang Mr. White’s doorbell.  In his jacket pocket, four thousand dollars, Mr. White’s share from the sale of their last batch of meth.  Not that Mr. White was expecting it, apparently.  Jesse hadn’t heard from him for days.  As promised, radio silence.

The meth they'd cooked had sold incredibly fast.  People were panting for it.  Jesse had decided it couldn’t hurt to follow up with Mr. White, see how he was doing, maybe if he was ready to cook again.  Jesse bet the next batch would fly too.  They would both benefit.

As for the other stuff, well, that was a total disconnect.  An event in extreme circumstances, a _trying time_ , as per Mr. White.  Never happened.  Never _would_ happen, again.  His mind sprang away from the memory.

***

Mr. White wasn’t happy to see him. 

He pushed Jesse into the backyard, which turned out to contain a neatly kept pool.  Advanced on him threateningly.  “What the hell are you doing here?”   

Jesse retreated.  “Yo, I waited till the ball buster left,” he said placatingly, referring to Mr. White’s wife.  “…I mean, no offense.”

Unappeased, Mr. White stalked closer.   “Who sent you?”  He grabbed at Jesse’s waist.  “You wearing a wire?  You setting me up?”

Jesse struggled out of his grip, furious.  “Jesus  -homo!  A wire?  You want a wire –I got a wire-”  grabbed his crotch.  “Speak into the mike, bitch!”  Mr. White shoved him hard in the chest again.

Jumping back, Jesse glared at him.  “What the hell’s wrong with you?  _A wire_.  Jesus!”

Mr. White glared back.  “So who did you tell about…”  He gestured.

Jesse couldn’t believe this.  “Nobody!  What, are you, _nuts_?”

“Then why…are you _here_?”  Mr. White asked him.

Jesse drew a breath.  “I don’t know…To, like…touch base.”

Mr. White looked perplexed.  He stepped closer.  “Touch _base_?”

Jesse gazed at him earnestly.  “Yeah, you know, what you call a…debrief?  Maybe we could…like… I thought we could debrief.”  

Mr. White now looked amused.  “Debrief?  Wow, that’s…that’s what you think we need?  To _debrief_?”  He gave a wheeze of laughter.

Jesse kept trying.  “Yeah, after what happened, it seems like the thing to do.  Kind of, you know, talk about it?  I mean, we can’t talk to anybody else.”  He paused expectantly.  Mr. White said nothing.  “…Anyway…that, and I wanted to, you know, tell you how much everybody digs that meth we cooked—“  Mr. White looked alarmed, raised a hand for quiet.  “—digs the meth we cooked.”  Jesse finished in a whisper.  “Seriously, I got dudes that would give their left nut for a little more.” 

Mr. White's expression turned sardonic. “Great.”

“I’m just saying, if you ever… saw your way clear to…you and I… cooking a little more…”  Jesse stopped, looked at him.      

Mr. White stared back.  His expression was now one of disbelief.  His mouth opened silently.  He nodded then shook his head.  “Wow.” 

Jesse nodded back.

The kid was eyeing him cautiously, his expression diffident, sincere.   His face, healed now, was pale in the waning light of the afternoon, the blue eyes reflecting the green-blue of the pool water.  His dark blonde hair was standing up unkemptly around his head.  Walt abruptly remembered how soft it was.

But this wasn’t going to work.  The kid, showing up at his door, unannounced.  As if Skyler, pregnant, and his son weren’t agitated enough, the news of his cancer diagnosis shattering the calm of their family routine like a hammer through glass.   And him, going through the motions of each day in a state of guilty anxiety, his heart jumping at every sight of a police car.  It was already too much.  He didn’t need this.

Walt raised an arm, pointed towards the backyard gate.  “Get the hell off my property. “

Jesse's voice rose.  “What?  I’m just saying—“

“Go!  And don’t come back.  Now!”

The kid's eyes were hurt, angry.  He turned away.  Turned back, glared at Walt.  “Fine.  Alright.  Alright, you know what?” He took a sheaf of bills out of his pocket and waved them at Walt.  “Four grand.  Your share from selling that batch _.  That’s_ why I’m here.”  Walt was silent, nonplussed.   

Jesse’s voice was cutting.  “Yeah, that’s right.  Hey –“ He threw his arms wide, shrugged extravagantly in Walt’s direction.  “ _I_ didn’t _smoke_ it all.”  He tossed the bills at Walt and turned to leave.  The money fluttered over the patio, into the pool.

Walt glowered at Jesse’s back.  That brat, throwing money at him.  He called out.  “Jesse!”

Jesse stopped, turned.  Furious blue eyes.  Walt felt their gaze almost physically, like hot lights on his skin.  He paused, chose his words carefully.  “I’ll consider it.”

Jesse’s expression lifted.  “Okay, that’s—“

Walt raised a hand.  “But first we need to talk.  Discuss this.  Not here.”  His voice lowered.  “Your place.  Tonight.  I’ll come over.”  He paused. Jesse was standing motionless.  “I think _you_ need…further discussion.” Walt said to him.

The light had left Jesse’s face.  His eyes were wary.  “What do you mean?”

Walt smiled.  “I think you know.”  Looked at him.

Jesse was breathing shallowly.  His eyes were fixed on Walt.  Walt felt his own breath speeding up.  Infuriating brat.  Tossing money in Walt’s direction like it was nothing.  Walt walked forward slowly, still smiling.  “So.  Shall I come over tonight?”  He stopped in front of Jesse.  “To...discuss?”

Jesse stared back silently.  Mr. White stood close to him, hands in his back pockets, a wry smile on his craggy face.  He was his familiar drab, nerdy self, the high school science teacher Jesse remembered.  Unalarming.  But then you saw his eyes, green, cold and watchful behind the wire rimmed glasses.   

Jesse felt an abrupt dislocation.  A strangeness, like he could suddenly see _through_ Mr. White...see behind him to somebody else.  A dark, shadowy shape, standing behind.  

Mr. White was speaking.  “I’ve had a taste of you Jesse, and it was very…sweet.  I’ve been trying not to think about it, but now, here you are."  A considering stare.  "Have you really thought through what partnering with me will mean?”

At this, Jesse felt a shock of the same remembered, paralyzing pleasure.  He fought an urge to step forward to Mr. White, to put his face into the curve of the other man’s neck.

Mr. White was watching him intently.  Jesse saw his face as he registered Jesse’s reaction, the cold green eyes brightening.  To his dismay, Jesse felt himself getting hard. 

He couldn’t do this.

He backed away.  “Forget it,” he said hoarsely.  “Stay away from me, bitch.” 

Mr. White let out a breath.  “As you wish.”

Jessie walked quickly towards the gate.  Got out of there.

Walt watched him go.  Then he turned, surveyed the money floating in the pool and scattered like leaves on the patio.  He picked up the cleaning net, started fishing out the bills. 

***

It was past midnight.  Jesse sat at his kitchen table, smoking, fuming.  He had tried to replicate the pristine product cooked by him and Mr. White, but with no success.  Mr. White was right.  His meth _was_ shit.  After cooking and selling that magic batch, he couldn’t go backwards.  Cooking was over for him.

But it’s not like opportunities for regular work were knocking on his door either.  After years as a drug dealer, straight out of high school, his resume was not impressive.  The only jobs open to him were menial, humiliating.  Light years behind his old friends, with their college degrees.  No way.

Mr. White.  That blackmailing bastard.  Threatening himself into Jesse’s world, turning it to shit, and now, blackmailing him _again,_ tying a lucrative cooking partnership to what, some kind of sexual thing?  Jesse felt a flush of shame, remembering that last, humiliating conversation from some weeks ago.  That fucking, perverted, homo, shithead bastard. 

Jesse stared at the phone.  No.  No way he was going to do this. 

Walt sat in his living room, a glass of whiskey in his hand.  His family, sleeping.  Earlier that day, he had given in, finally, to the wishes of his wife and son.  He was going to get cancer treatment, embarking on an expensive, perilous journey with no sure outcome.  At the cost of tens of thousands of dollars, he was rolling the dice, gambling on holding off death for a little while longer.

The phone rang. 

Who could be calling this late?  Annoyed, Walt sprang to answer it before anyone else woke up. 

“Hello?”

Silence on the line. 

“Hel- _lo…_ this is a pretty late call.  Please state your business.”

Walt heard an exhaled breath.  Then a muffled voice, “ -shit… “

Walt felt his whole body tighten.  “Jesse?”

Silence.

“Jesse, is that you?”

Silence.

Walt was gripping the receiver.  He took a deep breath.  “Jesse…I’m coming over.”

Further silence.  Then Walt heard a click. 

Walt picked up his keys, put on his jacket, closed the front door softly.  Drove through the dark streets towards Jesse’s house.

Jesse put down the phone.  His hand was shaking.  He took another drag of his cigarette, stubbed it out.  He stood up, sat down.  Closed his eyes, put his head in his hands.  This was so…twisted.  What was he thinking?  Although, it _would_ be good for he and Mr. White to have a chance to talk things through.  Rationally.  Maybe this was their opportunity.  He turned on the kitchen faucet, splashed cold water on his hands and face. 

Walt parked his car in Jesse’s driveway and walked to the front door.  The house was dark.  He rang the bell, then knocked on the door.  “Jesse!”   No answer.  He knocked again, harder this time.  “Jesse!”

The front door opened, Jesse a dim form in the dark hallway. 

Walt smiled.  “Hello.”

Jesse stood silent, unmoving.

Walt tilted his head.  “May I come in?”

Jesse stepped back.  Walt entered, closed and locked the door behind him.  “Jesse, can you turn on the light?”

Jesse flicked on the light switch, illuminating the front room.  Walt surveyed him.

Jesse wore a large, floppy t-shirt and equally baggy sweatpants.  His feet were bare.  His hair stood up untidily on his head, a scrub of stubble on cheeks and chin.  The kid was clearly in some distress, his face pale, wide eyes nervous as they met Walt’s gaze. 

Walt considered him.  He had come here intending to be…not exactly gentle with Jesse, but at the sight of him, looking fragile in his ridiculous, oversized clothes, he paused.

“It’s good to see you again,” Walt said.

Jesse was silent.

“...Are you going to say anything?”

Jesse opened his mouth.  Closed it.  Swallowed.   Walt watched the movement of his throat.

“Yeah.  Hey, uh, you said you wanted to discuss things.  About cooking again and all.”  Jesse replied in his throaty voice.

“Sure.  Sure we can discuss things.”  Walt smiled, put his hands in his jacket pockets.  “Shall we go upstairs?”

Jesse darted a look at him.  “Uh, maybe…why don’t we talk in here.  I could get you a beer?”

Walt sighed.  Met Jesse's eyes.  “I don’t think so.  I think you and I are going to go upstairs.  Unless you’d like to use this?”  He gestured towards the couch.

Jesse looked panicked.  “What do you mean?  No.  No man.   Nothing like that.  I thought we would...talk, is all.  About the partnership.  Like you said!”

Walt stepped close.  He put his hands on Jesse’s arms.  The kid stood tautly under his touch, quivering. 

“Sure,” Walt said kindly.   “No problem.  We'll talk all about it.  But later, okay?”  Looked at Jesse’s anxious face, turned up to his.  Walt bent his head, slowly, and kissed Jesse’s lips.

Jesse felt Mr. White’s warm mouth cover his own.  This kiss was tender, unhurried, very different from the fierce assault he remembered from before.  Mr. White’s large hands were firm and warm as they grasped his arms.  To his surprise, Jesse realized that he felt…calmed.  His state of tense apprehension was gone.  He closed his eyes.  Mr. White’s lips moved to his throat.  He kissed the sensitive spot beneath Jesse’s ear, trailed kisses down the side of his neck.  Kissed the warm hollow at his collarbone. 

Jesse felt a tide of weakening pleasure surge through him.  His head fell back.  Mr. White’s hands were holding him. 

“Put your arms around me.”  The voice a low rumble.

Jesse wrapped his arms around Mr. White’s waist.  Mr. White was embracing him now, his body pressed closely.  Jesse buried his nose into Mr. White’s neck, breathing in his laundry soap smell.  Mr. White rubbed Jesse's back, then cradled his head with both hands.  His mouth found Jesse’s again, his tongue entering delicately, stroking. 

Jesse’s breath caught at the sensation.  Shifting, he felt the bulge of Mr. White’s erection brush against him.  The touch was electric.  He leaned forward, seeking further contact, pressing his hard cock into Mr. White’s groin. 

Mr. White abruptly broke the kiss.  “We’re not doing this here.  You’re going upstairs.  Now.”  His voice was strained.

Jesse hesitated.  Mr. White turned him towards the stairs.  “Go on.  Don’t make me carry you.”  He gave Jesse a gentle push.

Jesse’s bedroom, blue moonlight shining through the windows.  Jesse halting uncertainly by the bed. 

Walt walked over to the windows and closed the curtains.  Turned on a bedside lamp.  The kid was standing motionless, arms slack at his sides. 

“Take off your shirt,” Walt said.

Jesse was still.  Walt came over to him and grasped the hem of his t-shirt.  “Raise your arms.  Now, Jesse.  I want to see you.”

Jesse raised his arms.  Walt pulled the t-shirt over his head and put it aside.  He looked at Jesse again.

The kid was slender, but well formed, lean muscles defining arms, chest and stomach.  A sprinkling of blonde hair on his chest.  A beautiful body to match the face.   Walt reached out, ran his hands over Jesse’s arms and sides.  The skin was satiny soft. Remembering how Jesse had reacted the last time, he placed both thumbs on Jesse’s nipples, circling and pressing down slightly.  Sure enough, Jesse’s eyes closed.

Walt put his glasses on the bedside table, then returned to Jesse, wrapping his hands around the younger man’s waist.  He kissed Jesse again.

“Okay, it’s time for the rest.”  He started to tug down Jesse’s sweatpants.

Jesse grabbed his hands.  “Mr. White, I don’t think I’m ready for this.”

“You’re ready," Walt replied.  "Don’t be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Mr. White, what you—what I think you have in mind, I haven’t…done that before.”

Walt smiled.  “Yes, I figured that one out.  It will be fine, I promise.”

“Have you…been with a man before?”

“No.”

“Then, uh, do you know what you’re doing?  I mean—“

Walt sighed.  “Jesse, I’m a lot older than you, and for sixteen years I've been married to a gorgeous, passionate woman.  Trust me, I know what I’m doing.  Here we go.”  He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Jesse’s pants and started to pull.  Jesse clamped his own hands on top of Walt's in a death grip.  “Mr. White—“

Walt took his hands off Jesse’s waist.   He met Jesse’s wide eyed gaze.  Then gave Jesse a push.  The younger man fell backwards onto the bed, Walt coming with him.  Jesse started to sit up and Walt pushed him down again, grabbing his hands.  “Stay still.”  He kissed Jesse on the mouth to soften his words, then moved to his throat, nuzzling.   Lowering his head to Jesse’s chest, he pressed his ear against Jesse’s heart, heard it thumping.  Then turned his head and drew a nipple into his mouth, tongue fluttering over the sensitive skin.  Jesse arched his back, breath hissing through his parted lips.  Walt kissed Jesse’s stomach and worked his way downwards to the bulge at his groin.  He put his mouth over Jesse’s cock through the material of the sweatpants and breathed hotly on it, biting lightly, then drawing it, still swathed, into his mouth.  Jesse made a soft, reluctant sound of pleasure.  He twisted under Walt's mouth.

Walt pulled down Jesse’s pants and shorts, exposing him.  Then he took Jesse’s cock fully into his mouth, pulling tightly.  Jesse gasped, and bucked upwards.  Walt let him slide between his lips for a moment, then abruptly released him, flipping Jesse over to lie face down, his bottom exposed.  Jesse gasped again, but was otherwise still.  Walt finished pulling off his sweatpants and shorts, then ran his hands up over Jesse’s legs, stroking his bottom and back.  “You’re beautiful.”  Walt kissed the small of Jesse’s back.  “Stay like this.  I’ll just be a moment.”

“Where're you going?”

“To wash my hands.”

Jesse buried his face in the mattress, whispering “Ohmigod,” but didn’t move.  When Walt returned, he was greeted with the sight of Jesse lying still on the bed, his bottom upturned like an offering, his white silky skin gleaming palely in the lamplight.  Walt found his hands shaking slightly as he shed his own clothes.  Then he took a tube of lubricant from his jacket pocket, as well as a box of condoms, courtesy of a stop en-route at a twenty four hour pharmacy.  He slipped a condom on, fumbling slightly, then squeezed the lubricant generously over his hands.

He knelt over Jesse.  Ran oiled fingers along the dark crevice.  “I need you to open up a little more.” 

“Mr. White, please—“

“Sh-hh, I’ll make this as easy as possible for you.  Now open up.”  He tapped his fingers lightly between Jesse’s legs.  Jesse buried his head deeper into the bed, but did as he was asked.  Walt patted his bottom in approval, then ran his fingers again along the sensitive crease, reaching the dark flower of the anus.  He circled it slowly, rubbing, then slipped a finger carefully inside.

Jesse tensed.  Walt laid his other hand on Jesse’s back to hold him in place, and then slipped a second finger in.  Jesse gasped but stayed still.  Walt explored the warm cavity, searching for the sensitive, hidden gland.  Found it and pressed down, moving his fingers slightly.  Jesse's bottom was writhing.  He was gasping, biting his lip.  He lifted up against Walt’s hand.  Walt spread his fingers, opening Jesse further.  Shaking, he grabbed the tube of lubricant with his other hand and squeezed more over himself, barely in control.  Then he removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock.  Slowly, carefully, he pushed his way in.

Jesse felt Mr. White enter him, stretching him unbearably.  He twisted, uselessly trying to relieve the pressure.  Mr. White’s voice was murmuring over his head, soothing words he could barely catch.  Jesse was in agony, tears starting from his eyes.   He heard his own voice pleading with Mr. White to stop, but the other man pushed on, inexorably filling him.  And then Mr. White’s cock brushed the hidden spot that had lit up like a firecracker under his fingers.   Jesse went still, pleasure exploding through him.  Mr. White withdrew slightly, then pushed in again, harder, nudging and rubbing that spot.  And then again.  And again.  Jesse was moaning helplessly, his body softening, opening.   Mr. White was urging him up onto his knees.  He went easily, arching his back, pushing himself against Mr. White, shamelessly opening further to Mr. White’s thrusts.

Walt felt his orgasm coming.  He reached around Jesse’s hips and grasped his cock with a hand still slippery with lubricant.  He pumped Jesse’s cock hard, matching the rhythm of his thrusts into the kid’s tight, exquisite ass.  He had forgotten about being gentle, but Jesse didn’t seem to care.  He was up on his hands and knees, lean muscles straining, intent to capture every nuance of sensation as Walt pounded into him.  Walt felt himself coming and thrust hard into Jesse one last time, gripping Jesse’s cock.  He heard the kid cry out, and felt the hot semen spurt into his hand.  Walt let his own orgasm overtake him, flooding him, and he came, endlessly, arching his body over Jesse’s and burying his face against Jesse’s back. 

They were both collapsed on the bed, gleaming with perspiration.  Walt, softening, slipped himself out of Jesse.  He planted a kiss on the kid’s shoulder and then made his way, a bit unsteadily, to the bathroom.  Flushing the condom, he took a towel and ran it under hot water.  Cleaned himself off.  Then took another towel, wet it thoroughly, and returned to the bedroom.

Jesse was lying where he had left him, face pillowed in his arms.  Walt took the hot towel and pressed it gently between Jesse’s legs, swabbing carefully.  Jesse gasped at the sensation.  Walt finished wiping him clean and then urged Jesse onto his back.  He applied the towel to Jesse’s cock and cleaned off his front, touching him tenderly.  Jesse lay still, one arm partially over his face, his eyes closed.

Walt picked up a small jar.  “Jesse can you turn over again?  I want to put this on you.”

Jesse’s eyes opened.  “What is it?”

“It’s medicated cream.  I’ll leave it with you.  It’s good for, you know, if you’re sore over the next few days.”

“God, you think of everything don’t you?”

“Yes, well…come on, turn over now.”

Jesse glared at him, but turned over, allowing Walt access.  Walt finished smearing the cream onto him, then stood up.  “Can I get you anything else?”

“...My smokes are in the kitchen, can you get those?”

“Sure.  Could you hand me my glasses?”

Jesse reached over to the bedside table and handed Walt his glasses.  Then he sat up, naked on the rumpled bed.  He looked at Walt silently.

Walt looked away.  “Why don’t you get under the covers.  You’ll be cold.”

Jesse gazed at him a moment longer, then shifted under the quilt, tucking it around himself.  He sat back against the brass railing of the bedframe. 

Walt padded down to the kitchen, returned with the cigarettes.  Stood by the bed while Jesse lit up.

Jesse observed his former teacher.   Without his nerdy clothes, Mr. White was more impressive looking -a tall, broad shouldered man with a deep chest, brawny, muscular arms, strong legs.   You could see he'd been handsome, once.  And he could, possibly, outside chance, pass for someone capable of rape and murder.  Go figure.

Although right now, Mr. White wasn’t threatening.  In fact, he seemed a bit nervous.  He gestured towards Jesse’s discarded clothes.  “Would you like to put these back on?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Okay.”  Mr. White, turned, picked up Jesse’s t-shirt and sweats, and started _folding_ them.   He laid the folded clothes neatly on a corner of the bed.   Jesse gave both him and the clothes a look.

Mr. White glanced back.  “Well, I should go—“

“How long have you wanted to do this?” Jesse asked.

“What?”

“How long have you wanted to do this?"  Jesse repeated.  "Fuck somebody like this.  Fuck me.”

Mr. White sat down on the bed.  “What kind of question is that?”

“I think it’s a reasonable one, given the...situation.  How long?”

“I’ve never wanted to fuck a man before, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“What about one of your students?”

“No!  Jesse!  And you're a _former_ student I might add.”

“Thank God.”

“Yeah, well that makes two of us, believe me.”

“What about your wife, have you ever cheated on her before?”

“Leave my wife out of this, and no, I haven’t.  I’ve been faithful.”

“Until now.”

Mr. White was getting worked up.  He looked down.  Took a breath.  “Are these questions going somewhere?”

Jesse watched him.  “I want to know.  Why me?  And why now?  Have you been like, thinking about this for years, having, like, gay thoughts?  Waiting for the right opportunity to come along?”

Mr. White sighed.  “Jesse, I’ve already said, no.  This wasn't something that was on my mind.  And I wasn’t thinking about this when I came to you—“

“Blackmailed me.”

“— _came_ to you to cook meth.  This was unexpected.”

“Unexpected.”

“Yes.”

A pause.  “So now what?”  Jesse asked.  “I’m supposed to just…let you, any time you want?  Is that it?”

Mr. White met Jesse’s eyes.  “That’s the idea, yes," he said.  "Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”

Jesse’s lips tightened.  “Mr. White, _why?_ And _why me?_ ”

“Because I want to.”  Mr. White reached over and plucked the cigarette out of Jesse’s hand. 

“Hey!”

“You’ve had enough.”  He grasped a corner of the quilt and twitched it aside. 

“What are you doing?”

“Shh…nothing.  I just want to get in with you for a moment.”  Mr. White took his glasses off again, and settled in beside Jesse, drawing him down until Jesse was lying on his side, sheltered in the curve of his former teacher's body. 

“I thought you had to go.”  Jesse relaxed reluctantly into Mr. White’s warmth.

“I can spare a bit longer.”  Mr. White lay behind him quietly.

Then Jesse felt Mr. White's lips brush the nape of his neck.  Warm hands stroked him.

“You’re beautiful, Jesse," Mr. White said.  "I don’t know how anyone could be around you for very long without wanting to do this.  You’re irresistible.  Amazing.”

“You told me you didn’t think I’d amount to much.”  Jesse said to him.

“I didn’t mean it.”

Walt heard the kid take a shaky breath.  He continued to stroke Jesse’s body, his hands learning the geography of satiny skin, lean muscle, warm flesh.  He kissed Jesse again on his fluffy nape, burying his nose in the soft hair.

Suddenly Jesse turned around.   He put his arms around Walt.  Tucked his head under Walt’s chin, his face against his throat, his body pressed into Walt’s.  Walt felt the rise and fall of Jesse's breath.  He thought of a tawny wild creature emerging from cover and putting its sleek head in his lap.

“What’s this?”

“Nothing.”  Jesse’s voice was muffled. 

Walt held Jesse in his arms.  The way the younger man embraced him, so trustingly, reminded him sharply of his wife, lying with her, relaxed in their bed.  And of his own son, a memory from years ago now, when a smaller Walter Jr. would throw his arms around Walt’s waist, press his face into his father’s side. 

To his dismay, Walt felt tears rising.  He understood, suddenly.  He'd been telling himself over and over again that this whole thing was for the two people he loved more than anything, his wife and son.  To leave them something.  To use whatever means at his disposal to discharge his obligations, before the cancer ripped that ability away from him.  And now, impossibly, the scope of those obligations had grown, had expanded to include this unlooked for, unimaginable third person.   This warm, softly breathing, silky being, pressed next to him.

Walt had a chilling vision of Jesse’s face, bruised and covered in blood, blue eyes filled with hatred.   He saw his wife and son, holding each other, crying.  He had betrayed them.  And Jesse…what was this going to do to Jesse?

He couldn’t continue.  Walt disengaged Jesse’s hands from around his neck.  “Jesse, I’m sorry.”

Jesse’s eyes opened.   “What?”

“I’m sorry, this was wrong.  I shouldn’t have come here.”

Jesse sat up.  “You’re telling me this, _now?_ ”

Walt was putting on his clothes.  “Jesse, I have to go, I’m sorry.”

“Wait –you can’t just…Tell me what’s going on!”

“I can’t talk about it right now.  I’ll, we’ll talk later.  I’ll call you.”

“ _’I’ll call you._ ’”  Jesse’s voice was incredulous.   “Are you seriously giving me a _line?_ ”

“It's not a line.  I will call you.  We’ll talk.  Later.”

Jesse was looking at him.  There was something unbearable about his gaze.  “No man, forget it.  I don’t want to hear from you.” 

“Jesse—“

“Shut up!  You said you shouldn’t have come here.  Well I agree.  Now get the fuck out!”  Jesse’s voice was harsh.

Walt stood still, looking down at the younger man.  He said, hesitantly.  “Jesse, what happened…it was…you are amazing and incredible and…a good person, and you have your whole life ahead of you.  Working with you, being around you…I couldn’t resist you and I should have.  It was wrong of me. ”

Jesse was shaking his head, his eyes full of distress.  “ _Why are you saying these things to me?”_   he whispered painfully.

“I need you to understand.  _I don’t want to leave you._ I wish things were different.  I’m sorry.   We’ll talk later, okay?  Goodbye Jesse.”  Walt turned away quickly.  He closed the bedroom door behind him.

Jesse’s eyes remained on the closed door.  He reached over for his cigarettes, lit one up.  Exhaled.  After all that, putting him through all of that, Mr. White had gone _noble_ on him?  Jesus.  He closed his eyes.

His body was sore.  Mr. White had been right about that.  Inadvertently, Jesse’s fingers went to his lips then travelled to his throat, lower.  He traced the path of Mr. White’s touch.  He remembered the helpless, piercing pleasure, his own voice, crying out.  His whole body hungry for another taste.

This was similar to something –what was it?  Mr. White, his touch crackling over Jesse like lightning.  And then Jesse had it.  The crystal.  Being with Mr. White was like smoking meth.  The same bitter, compelling, uncontrollable high.

He lit another cigarette.

***

Walt was sitting with his family in the oncology clinic, waiting to be called in by the nurse.  Skyler, looking at him, so anxious and hopeful, speaking about the billing office, payment on credit, the supposed financial support coming from his old colleagues and business partners, Gretchen and Elliott, that obnoxious billionaire couple.  His own, false, reassuring words to her. 

Lying on the cold metal treatment bed with the green, buzzing lights.  It had started.  The money clock was ticking.

Later, in his car.   Driving nowhere in particular. 

He hadn’t called Jesse. 

Walt was trying to arrange his thoughts. 

He would continue cooking meth.  And he would partner with Jesse.  This was a means to an end –paying his medical bills and leaving a financial legacy for his family in case he didn’t, or rather, in the expectation that he wouldn’t survive.  Jesse would help him.  And it wasn’t like Jesse wouldn’t benefit too –he'd have Walt’s product, access to Walt’s expertise.  Walt would teach him, do right by him.  Fifty-fifty.

As for the other, well that had been an inexcusable self indulgence.  A distraction.  Perhaps it had been a protest, a rebellion enacted on Jesse’s body against his own approaching death -his belated attempt at freedom, after years of existing in a half-life of fear, anxiety and self doubt. With Jesse he felt an inexplicable liberation, an ability to think and act more freely than with any other person in his experience.  With Jesse, it was like the man he'd been for last twenty years was erased and he could start over, renewed and unafraid.

It was intoxicating. 

But regardless, business had to come first.  Distraction of any kind was a luxury he couldn’t afford. 

Jesse’s face was before him suddenly, the kid’s head thrown back, eyes closed, his throaty voice moaning in rapture.  Jesse embracing him, leaning into him like he was coming home.   

How many months did he have left?  Maybe it was unfair to let the kid get attached to him, but was it fair to ask Walt to give him up?  Was a few months too much to ask?  Something for himself, free from stale conventional beliefs, outside the fence of arid expectations encircling his life. 

Jesse.  A flower blooming in the desert, astonishing.  Was he supposed to just pass by?

Walt turned the matter over in his mind.  This business they were in, that he and Jesse were in, well, it was a dangerous business.  Their last experience had shown him that.  Was he prepared to expose Jesse to danger?  Danger that he would never, ever consider acceptable for his wife or son?  The answer, of course, was yes, _had_ to be yes.   So it stood to reason that he couldn’t think of Jesse, couldn’t _treat_ Jesse, the same way as he would his own family, or he would never be able to do it.

And the kid, well, he was born to take advantage.  Give him and inch and he would take a mile. Walt was regrettably familiar with the type from his years as a teacher.  He could just see himself trying to get a reluctant Jesse to do something if the kid thought he had any edge over him at all. 

How to have both Jesse and the business?   How to take his exquisite enjoyment and still keep the kid in line?

Walt abruptly turned the car around and headed in the direction of Jesse’s house.   He was going to accomplish this.  In the short time he had left, he was going to have it all and Jesse would just have to accept it. 

***

Jesse was packing the cooking gear away in his garage.  Cleaning up the mess left behind in the RV from his last disastrous cook.   He heard his gate open and close.  Looked up swiftly and saw, unbelievably, _Mr. White_ , walking tentatively up his driveway, nerdier looking than ever in his windbreaker and drab shirt and pants. 

Jesse clenched his jaw.   That bastard.  Of all the nerve…Mr. White hadn’t seen him yet.  “Yo!”  Jesse called out in an unwelcoming tone.  He stalked over to stand in front of the parked RV.  Glared at Mr. White.  Spread his hands in a gesture of hostile inquiry.

Mr. White looked at him.  Jesse was arrested by his expression.  Mr. White was gazing at him somberly, his craggy face naked, defenceless.  His green eyes were not cold, not piercing, not calculating.  Instead he looked…sad. 

“Want to cook?  Mr. White asked.

Jesse stared back, wordless.


	2. Chapter 2

Walt and Jesse were re-loading the cooking supplies into the RV.  Walt took in the sordid mess –the clutter of empty chip bags, pop bottles, broken glass vials and girlie magazines.  He felt his temper rising.

He took a breath, turned to Jesse.  “Let’s get something straight.”  Walt gestured to the disassembled lab.  “This, the chemistry, is _my_ realm.  _I_ am in charge of the cooking.   Out there on the street, you deal with that.   As far as our customers go, I don’t want to know anything about them.   I don’t want to _see_ them, I don’t want to _hear_ from them.  I want _no interaction_ with them whatsoever.”

Jesse stared at Walt warily, frowning.

Walt continued.  “This operation is you and me, and _I’m_ the silent partner.   You got any issues with that?”

Jesse’s gaze continued unfriendly.   “Whatever man.”   His voice was sullen.

Walt turned steely eyes on him.   He approached Jesse slowly, pacing the length of the narrow, cluttered space.  Jesse’s head came up, eyes flashing. He backed up slightly.  Walt stopped, put his face close, his eyes intent.  “No matter what happens, no more bloodshed.”  His voice was determined.  A shake of his head for emphasis.  “No violence.” 

Jesse’s gaze was still baleful.  He snorted.  “Sure, no problem.  I’m all about non-violence.  Unlike _you.”_

Walt bit back an angry retort.   Jesse’s proximity was having its familiar, disturbing effect and he felt his heart speeding up.  In the dim light of the RV, Jesse’s blue eyes held a subterranean, watery glow.  His dark blond hair was hidden by one of his tight black knit caps, an item of clothing that would be wildly unflattering on most people, but on Jesse had the effect of accentuating his features, emphasizing the chiselled nose and cheekbones, the finely cut jaw and shapely mouth.   Walt stepped closer and put a hand carefully on Jesse’s face, admiring the contrast of his rough, tanned and freckled skin against Jesse’s pale cheek.

Jesse jumped back.  “Cut it _out_ , man!”

Walt smiled.  He suddenly embraced the younger man, drawing Jesse closely into his arms.

Jesse was struggling.  “Dude—“ 

Walt’s arms tightened, holding Jesse in place.  “Shh.”  He spoke into Jesse’s throat, rocking him slightly, feeling the motion as Jesse swallowed.  The kid was a warm bundle in his arms. 

“Here's how it’s going to be.”  Walt said to him in a whisper.  “You and I are going to clean this mess up.  We are going to set up a spotless, professional laboratory for our product.  We are going to keep to a disciplined production schedule.  We are going to create an excellent result.  Consistently.  And afterwards…”

Walt raised his head, put his hands on either side of Jesse’s face.  Jesse was staring at him, eyes wide.  Walt kissed his mouth. 

“Afterwards, I'm going to fuck you,“  he said softly.  He kissed Jesse again.  “Slow and hard.  Wherever and whenever I want.”   Jesse’s head had tilted back.  Walt kissed his throat.  “I'm going to bend you over your own kitchen table and fuck you.  You're going to be crying, begging me for it.” 

Jesse stood motionless in Walt’s arms.  He was breathing rapidly.  Walt kissed Jesse’s mouth again, then his eyelids.  Whispered, “I’m going to put you on your knees in front of me, my cock in your mouth.  You're going to learn how to please me.”   He felt Jesse shuddering.  Walt gripped his jaw.  “And if you displease me, if you _aggravate_ me in any way, Jesse, I'm going to...punish you.”  

Walt smiled at his own his words, then kissed Jesse deeply, thrusting his tongue into the younger man’s mouth.   Jesse made a soft, muffled sound.  His hands pushed at Walt’s waist.  Walt raised his head, looked at him.  Jesse's eyes were closed, his brows furrowed.  A concentrated, inward look was on his face.  Walt kissed him again, his mouth softening.  Jesse's hands curled against him. 

“Look at me Jesse.”  Jesse had turned away from him.  Walt tightened his fingers on his jaw.  “ _Look_ at me.  Open your eyes.”   Jesse’s eyes opened reluctantly.  They met Walt’s gaze distantly, as if from under water.

“Do we have an understanding?”  Walt asked him.

Jesse was silent.

Walt’s hand moved to his throat, stroking.  He kissed Jesse’s mouth again.  And then again, touching Jesse's lips delicately.  Said softly, “Jesse.  Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes.”  Jesse’s voice sounded foggy, drugged.

 Walt let out a breath.  “Good.  That’s good."  

He released Jesse briskly.  

"Now let’s clean up.  This place is a disaster.  Where are your cleaning supplies?”

***

Jesse was waiting for Mr. White to come by so they could go out into the desert to cook.  He sat quietly in his front room, smoking one cigarette after another.

These last few days had gone exactly as Mr. White said they would.

In the afternoons, once Mr. White finished class, they drove the re-furbished RV along remote back roads to find an undisturbed cooksite.  Prior to joining his former teacher, Jesse was spending hours gathering supplies, travelling far out of town to pick up boxes of pseudoephedrine, so they could build up their inventory.  As they cooked, Mr. White had been his well-remembered, grouchy self -the sharp tongued, sarcastic, demanding chemistry teacher whose class Jesse had suffered through during one incredibly long, tedious school year. 

Only this time, Jesse was listening.  One thing about Mr. White, he might be a bastard, but he was thorough.   He took Jesse through each step, breaking the cooking process down into precise, minute detail, and insisting that Jesse practice, green eagle eyes on every movement.   He elaborated excruciatingly  –how to observe and measure the temperature, consistency, even the colour and clarity of the batch, how to ensure maintenance of the desired chemical balance.  His voice, constantly in the background, drilling laboratory protocols –cleanliness, precision, method, measurement, reassessment…Jesse rolled his eyes, snapped back at Mr. White if the man got _too_ unbearable, and occasionally exited the RV, enraged, to take a moment before returning to the cook, resisting the temptation to dump a vial of toxic stuff over Mr. White’s head. 

But Jesse was listening. 

The intense frustration he'd experienced when he'd cooked on his own, his futile effort to re-achieve a desired standard, but without the means, without the understanding, that was over.  Jesse was experiencing the joy of mastering a skill, the sensation of knowledge entering into his hands, his mind and his eyes, and increasing exponentially with each successive cook.  It was an intoxicating feeling, and Jesse found himself looking forward to his time in the lab, despite the cramped space, physical discomforts, and less than congenial company of his partner.

You’d never guess, from Mr. White’s behaviour towards him while they worked, that he viewed Jesse as anything but a somewhat dim junior colleague, in need of constant instruction and occasional acerbic criticism.  There was no affection in his words or gaze, in fact they barely spoke other than on the business at hand.  His tone with Jesse was almost always biting and sometimes quite hurtful, although there was the rare nod of approval.  Jesse, stung, had responded in kind, answering Mr. White as if he was still the disengaged high-school student and rebellious adolescent he had been.

But afterwards, when the day’s work was done, Mr. White changed. 

The change was so abrupt, so complete, that you'd think Mr. White was taken over by another person.  As the day drew to a close, Jesse would find himself increasingly tense, anticipating and dreading what came next.

Mr. White would seize him as soon as they returned to Jesse’s house. 

He would carefully lay down the day’s product, then come to Jesse, kissing him fiercely.  Jesse had never in his life been kissed like this, with such focus and intensity.  He found himself surrendering under the onslaught of these kisses, opening to Mr. White's mouth, his lips parting involuntarily.

And the way Mr. White touched him...it was completely new to his experience. 

Jesse wasn’t unfamiliar with being desired, pursued.  Was used to it, actually.  Having that effect on people came in handy, sometimes.  Smoothed the road. 

Not here.

It was like Mr. White was mad at him, almost. 

He would push Jesse against the nearest wall, sometimes hard enough to knock out his breath.  Would yank Jesse’s shirt up impatiently, baring his skin, his hands and mouth moving roughly over Jesse’s body, tweaking, sucking.  Would grasp Jesse’s cock, fingers curling around him, palming him hard through his jeans. 

Mr. White’s handling of him was devoid of any tenderness.  He seemed to delight in marking Jesse, leaving his nipples chafed and sore, dark red bruises on his skin.   

And Jesse was helpless under that rough, punishing touch. 

He found himself moaning, leaning weakly back against the wall, his cock rigid.  Offering himself up to his former teacher, lifting his mouth, arching his back, pressing his cock up against Mr. White’s body. 

Relinquishing any control of the situation.  _That_ was clearly in the hard hands of Mr. White.

Jesse had never reacted like this before.  To anyone.   It was as if Mr. White’s fury had flicked on a switch in his brain, to a part of him lying dormant, hidden and unknown to him until now. 

Jesse found himself craving, begging for his partner’s forceful treatment, encouraging Mr. White with his ragged voice, his yielding mouth, unable to pretend any reluctance, despite a certain embarrassment. 

Mr. White would torment him until Jesse was shuddering, then guide him into a selected room. Would bend Jesse over a convenient piece of furniture or push him down on the bed.  Drag his pants and shorts roughly off.  Shove Jesse’s legs apart, or yank him up onto his knees and enter him from behind, thrusting his cock into Jesse’s body. 

Jesse had always enjoyed that first, unhesitating thrust.  When he was performing it himself, that is, upon someone else.  Pushing his own cock into the tight, hot, yielding enclosure of a girl's pussy.  Having them moan and shudder under him.

And now, to have that done to him.  To be entered like that, taken.  To be fucked. 

Jesse felt himself growing hard just thinking about it.

The night before last, as threatened, Mr. White had selected Jesse’s kitchen. He pushed Jesse down over the kitchen table, yanking down his jeans.  Slapped his bare bottom, playfully.  Then put his thumbs on Jesse’s anus, opening him.  Entered him, taking Jesse without additional preliminaries, thrusting strongly, his cock immediately finding the smooth, hidden tissues of the prostate gland, rubbing against them insistently. 

Jesse had cried out at the the painful, stretching fullness, burning.  Had arched his back, pressing himself back against Mr. White, shamelessly seeking more.  Mr. White had obliged him, fucked him hard, one hand reaching around Jesse to grasp his cock. At the touch of Mr. White’s fingers enclosing his shaft, a callused thumb brushing roughly over the swollen glans, Jesse had come almost immediately, overcome by the irresistible combination of discomfort and pleasure.

And afterwards, collapsed exhaustedly on the table, Mr. White stroking him gently.  Jesse's cheeks flushed red, hot with mortification at his helpless response.  At his abandonment to what was happening to him, here.  

Being fucked like a little bitch.

And Mr. White smiling at him, enjoying his embarrassment.  The bastard.

But _that_ embarrassment had been _nothing_ compared to what had happened _last_ night.

***

Mr. White’s hand on his elbow, steering Jesse into the living room.  Halting in front of the couch.  “Down on your knees.”

Jesse had stared at him, uncomprehending.  Mr. White pushed him down by the shoulders.  “Kneel down please, Jesse.  Undo my pants.  I want your mouth on me.”

Appalled, Jesse turned a panicked face up to his partner.  “Mr. White, I don’t…I can’t do this!”   Mr. White laid a hand on Jesse's head, grasping him by the hair.  Smiled.  Jesse was struck again by the harshness of his features –Mr. White’s face was all angles, with a blade of a nose and a jaw that looked carved out of granite.  His skin was rough and weathered.  His smile was sharp, with a flash of white teeth.  

How had he ever thought Mr. White looked harmless?   

Mr. White leaned over Jesse, his rough voice confiding.  “You can…it’s time you learned.  And Jesse, I expect you to do a good job.  To…apply yourself.  Because if you don’t…”  He leaned closer.  Kissed Jesse’s mouth.

Jesse was motionless, frozen on his knees.  He was overcome with a sense of unreality.  This couldn’t be happening...but Mr. White was waiting.  And Jesse felt a helpless, weakening pleasure wash through his own body.  He had a flash of what he must look like, to Mr. White, under Mr. White's eyes.  Kneeling before him, his anxious face turned up. 

Barely breathing, his eyes fixed on Mr. White's face, Jesse undid his partner’s belt, unzipping his pants, freeing his erect cock.  It rose, thick and dark red, from a coarse nest of pubic hair.   Jesse closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his face for a moment against the warm shaft.  Then he opened his mouth and tentatively took Mr. White in, feeling the bulbous tip of Mr. White’s cock push against the roof of his mouth.  He gagged slightly, pulling away.  Mr. White was breathing harshly, his hand on the back of Jesse’s head. 

Jesse couldn’t do this.  He pulled back, resisting, trying to control the movement, his tongue curling around Mr. White’s cock to prevent further entry, his throat closing against the pressure.  He looked up appealingly, meeting his partner’s eyes. 

Mr. White released him.  He was pulling up and re-fastening his pants, re-buckling his belt.  Jesse sat back on his heels, momentarily relieved.  Mr. White was going to give him a break, after all. 

Then Mr. White yanked him to his feet.  Held Jesse between his hands for a moment, eyeing him consideringly.  Then, keeping his hands on Jesse, Mr. White sat down on the couch. Pulled Jesse down with him, forcefully upending him over his knees.  Dumbfounded, Jesse struggled to rise.  Mr. White laid a hand heavily on the back of Jesse's neck, fingers pinching, painfully holding him in place.   “Stay where you are.”  Put his other hand lightly on Jesse's bottom.  “I’m going to warm you up a bit,” he said.

He had to be kidding.  

“Mr. White _I’m not doing this!”_   Jesse protested.  He made to get up.

“Oh yes you are.”  Mr. White’s fingers tightened cruelly on the back of Jesse’s neck.  Jesse winced.  “Don’t move!” Mr. White snapped at him.  “Or you know,” his voice becoming conversational, “I can always tie you up and whip you with my belt.” 

Jesse was still, shocked.  Mr. White continued.  “You need this.  A spanking will make things easier for you, you’ll see.” 

Jesse started to struggle again, then suddenly stopped.  He subsided, holding himself motionless across Mr. White's lap.  Felt Mr. White's warm, hard thighs underneath him, taking the weight of his body.  He had another flashing vision of himself, his bottom turned up under Mr. White's hand, submissively waiting to be spanked.  He felt his cock pressed against Mr. White.  It was rigidly, painfully hard.  

This was happening.  Mr. White was going to do this to him.  

Mr. White yanked down Jesse’s baggy jeans and undershorts.  He put a hand on Jesse's waist, to steady him.  Then his other hand descended forcefully on Jesse’s bare bottom.  Jesse felt a sharp sting.  Drew in a breath.  

Mr. White started to spank him soundly, first one cheek and then the other, his large hand delivering hot, smarting blows.  

Pain was building in Jesse's bottom.  Despite an effort to stay still, he started to squirm against Mr. White's lap, his cock rubbing uncomfortably against the fabric of Mr. White’s pants. 

Mr. White continued to spank him, very hard.  Jesse was writhing, his bottom smarting, his cock so sensitized that he felt agonizingly close to coming.  He felt himself losing control, his voice hoarsely pleading.  “Please...stop.  Mr. White… _god_ … _stop it_ …”

Mr. White abruptly released him.  He rose and shoved Jesse back onto his knees.  Grabbed Jesse’s hands and placed them on his waist.  His voice was harsh, guttural.  “Again.”

Breath shuddering, struggling to recover himself, Jesse scrabbled at Mr. White’s belt, undid his pants.  Pulled them down.  He leaned forward quickly, took Mr. White’s cock deeply into his mouth.  Pulled at it, hard.  Mr. White’s hands were clamped in Jesse’s hair, guiding his head.  Jesse tightened his lips around Mr. White’s shaft, and moved his mouth swiftly up and down, his tongue pressing down firmly, sliding back and forth.  He leaned forward on his knees, focused solely on this one act.  His eyes were closed.

Mr. White began groaning and thrusting himself into Jesse’s mouth.  Jesse increased the suction of his tongue and lips along Mr. White's shaft.  He felt Mr. White jerk, then release heavily into him, his hands holding Jesse's head firmly.  He shoved his cock deep into Jesse's throat, forcing Jesse to swallow his come.  Which Jesse did, awkwardly, furious with him.  But at the same time, Jesse had grasped his own cock, seeking relief from the unbearable, swollen pressure.  He felt his orgasm shatter through him.

Jesse lay collapsed on the living room floor.  Humiliation rolled over him in hot waves.  

He closed his eyes tightly, trying to blot out the images of what had just happened.  Mr. White, shoving him to his knees.  Spanking him over his lap.  Thrusting, coming into Jesse's mouth.  And Jesse, surrendering to all of it. 

Mr. White had _wanted_ to humiliate him.  That was the thing.  

And both of them had liked it.  Intensely.

He was never going to move from this spot.  He willed Mr. White to go away. 

After a moment, Jesse felt Mr. White turn him over.  He pulled up Jesse's jeans, gently rearranged his clothes.  Jesse felt Mr. White’s hand on his mouth, wiping his lips.  He kept his eyes shut.

Mr. White kissed him.  “You got what you needed.”  His voice was a low rumble of satisfaction.  “Eventually, you’ll know when you need it too.  You'll ask to be spanked, just like you'll ask to be fucked.”

Jesse opened his eyes.  Mr. White’s face was close to his, the green eyes glinting at Jesse with amusement.

“Fuck you, you sick fucking bastard!”  Jesse hissed.

Mr. White had laughed.  Kissed Jesse a second time.  “See you tomorrow.”

***

Remembering this, Jesse flushed again.  What was _wrong_ with him that he would do this?  Mr. White was playing with him.  And Jesse was letting him, even worse, he was _living_ for the time with Mr. White, during the cook and afterwards.  His days were split into two parts –the gray, vague, meaningless intervals apart from Mr. White, and the harsh, technicolour hours in Mr. White’s presence.   Other people, conversations, interactions of any kind had ceased to have interest for him.  

The only person, the only _subject_ he had really thought about since Mr. White had returned was…Mr. White.

Jesse heard Mr. White’s car in the driveway.   The man would be in a rush, as always, to drive to the cooksite.  Jesse didn’t get up.

Jesse heard Mr. White’s step on the porch and then a sharp knock.  “Jesse!  Let’s go.”  Another knock, harder.  “Jesse!”  Then (big surprise), Mr. White tried the doorknob, rattling it impatiently.  Pounded again.  “Jesse!” 

Jesse set his teeth, and answered the door.  Mr. White was glaring at him.  He glared back. 

“Why aren’t you ready?”  Mr. White asked.  “Is it too much to ask to be _on time_?  We have little enough of that as it is.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you today.”  Jesse said.

“What?  Why not?  What’s wrong with you, are you sick?”

Jesse sat back down on the couch.  He took a drag on his cigarette.  “Mr. White, remember when you said to me that this was wrong, that you shouldn’t have come over here?”

Mr. White paused. He stood over Jesse, hands in the pockets of his windbreaker.  “I do.”

“So…what are you doing here?  You change your mind or something?”

Mr. White was silent for a moment.  Then sighed.  “Something, I guess.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Mr. White sat down beside Jesse.  He put his hands on his knees.  “Why are you asking me this now?”

Jesse looked at Mr. White’s face. The harsh profile was turned away from him.  “This…thing…we’re doing…It’s freaking me out, Mr. White.  I don’t feel too good about it.”

“You don’t…‘ _feel good.’_ ”  Mr. White repeated slowly.  “I’m confused Jesse.  I was under the impression that you were feeling…pretty good, actually.  Was I misinterpreting something?”   He glanced Jesse's way.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then…?”

“Jesus, you know what I mean!  You told me you were sorry.  That this was wrong.  That you shouldn’t have done it.  And then you blew out of here.  And then, a couple of days later, you were back!  Like you never said those things to me at all.   And then you...and then we…”  Jesse let out a breath.  Tried again. “Mr. White, I can’t deal with this.  This is too messed up for me.”

Mr. White was silent. 

Jesse’s voice rose.  “Aren't you going to say something?  What was the thought process here?”

More silence.  Mr. White gazed at his knees.   Eventually said, hesitantly, “Jesse…you know I’m married.” 

Jesse gave him a look.  “Uh, yeah…I met your wife…remember?  When she came to my house and threatened to call your DEA brother-in-law on me?  Accused me of selling you weed?  Hard to forget _that._ ”

“Right.  So you’ve seen her.  Tall, blonde… a stunning woman.”  Mr. White’s voice was subdued.  “You know, when Skyler and I were first married, I felt like the luckiest man on earth...Like with her I could conquer the world.  And she _loved_ me so much.  She loves me now.  She’s pregnant you know,” Mr. White added absently.

Jesse continued to look at him.  He raised his eyebrows.  “ _And_ …?”

Mr. White continued.  “…And so, over the years, I felt I deserved her love less and less.  Like I’d let her down.  Was letting her down.  And you know, this…”  Mr. White's voice shook slightly.  “This would…destroy her.  This would completely, utterly destroy her, if she found out about you, about this…thing…of ours, as you say.  I’ve totally betrayed her, betrayed her trust…”  A pause.  “Honestly, if I had known this was going to happen, I never would have suggested-”

“ - _Black_ mailed…”

Mr. White ignored him.  “-that you and I cook meth.  You think _you’re_ having a hard time dealing with this.  Well, trust me, whatever...internal conflicts, whatever…concerns _you_ might be struggling with, that goes _double_ for me.” 

There was a short silence. 

“But Jesse…”  A dark undercurrent had entered Mr. White's voice.  “Now that we’ve started this…I can’t stop.  I look at you, I touch you, your skin, your mouth, and I…want you.   I want to…to have you. I _need you..._ and I'm not thanking you for that.  Jesse.  _I didn’t ask to want you like this._ But now that we've started, I… _can’t stop_.  And Jesse…” 

Mr. White paused.  His eyes met Jesse’s.  His voice levelled out, became matter of fact. “…neither will you.”  

He leaned forward and kissed Jesse’s throat. "You're mine now," Mr. White whispered. 

Jesse was frozen.  Mr. White’s words had fallen into him like stones into still water, rippling through his body.  He closed his eyes, trapped by the warm lips on his skin. 

Mr. White stood, grasped Jesse’s arms, drew him to his feet.  “Let’s go upstairs.”

“I thought you were in a rush to leave.”  Jesse said faintly. 

“We'll go tomorrow.”  Mr. White kissed him.  Then stopped, coughed.  Jesse stared at him.  Mr. White took his elbow, propelled him forward.  His voice was rough.  “Come on.”

***

Walt was rubbing Jesse’s back.  The kid was lying limply on the rumpled bed, naked, his head pillowed in his arms.   Walt rubbed the muscles on either side of Jesse’s spine, worked up, kneaded his shoulders and neck.  Worked down again.  Massaged Jesse’s lower back.

“How’s that?”

“Mmph.”  Jesse’s eyes were closed.  Walt’s hand moved to Jesse's bottom.  “How’s this?”

Jesse opened his eyes.  “What do you mean?”

“Still sore?”

Jesse put his face back into the bed.  “Kind of.”

“Hmm.”  Walt placed a hand flat on one cheek.  “I think I’ll keep you sore.  Be a good reminder for you.”

Jesse didn't say anything.

Walt regarded his partner's silent back. “What will it remind you of Jesse?” he asked.

Jesse shifted slightly.  Didn't answer.

Walt's hand tightened.  “Jesse?”

Jesse looked back at Walt, annoyed. “I don’t _know_ , man, what?”

Walt smiled at him. “You’ll be reminded who you belong to.”

Jesse turned his head away.  Walt heard him let out a breath.  Still smiling, he moved his hands down to Jesse’s legs, his fingers digging strongly into the muscles on Jesse’s thighs and calves.  Asked lightly, “Are you going to remember?”

Silence.

“Jesse?”

“I’ll remember.”  Jesse's voice was muffled.

“That’s very good.”  Walt turned Jesse over.  He took one of Jesse’s bare feet onto his lap, massaging the sensitive instep with his thumbs. Jesse's head fell back. He lay quietly under Walt's hands, eyes closed.

“I’m hungry.”  Walt said, after awhile.  He continued rubbing.  "Do you have anything to eat here?”

“Don’t you have to go?” Jesse asked.

“I’ve got time, since we’re not going out today.”

“There’s some hotdogs in the freezer.”

Walt made a face. “Uh…no.  Let’s order in.  Want to?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Do you have takeout menus anywhere?”

“Kitchen drawer.”

“Okay.”  Walt started to get up.  

“Wait.”  Jesse put his other foot on Walt’s lap.  Walt looked at him.  Jesse met his eyes, smiling slightly.  He wriggled his toes invitingly.  “Rub my other foot first.” 

Walt picked up the offered foot, laughing.

***

Mr. White was more than usually gruff and abrupt at the next day’s cook.  Jesse was so annoyed with him by the time they were driving back that he was waiting eagerly for the opportunity to tell Mr. White to go to hell, the moment the man dared to lay hands on him.

But it didn’t happen the way he expected.

They entered Jesse’s kitchen.  Mr. White turned to Jesse.  Jesse stood tensely, ready to unleash a piece of his mind.  But Mr. White didn't touch him.  He halted in front of Jesse, arms at his sides.  Said quietly, “Jesse, you’ve been very patient with me and I appreciate it.  I’m sorry I was upset with you today.”  Jesse stared at him.  He opened his mouth to respond, closed it. 

Mr. White coughed, then moved towards him.  Jesse instinctively retreated, his back coming up against the counter.  Mr. White leaned forward, and kissed him gently on the forehead.  “I’m not staying.  I feel a bit ill and I want to get home.”  He put a hand lightly on Jesse’s cheek, stroked his face with his thumb.  “You’re good to work with Jesse.  A good lab partner.   I’m proud of your progress.  Don’t think I haven’t noticed it.”  He smiled.

At his words, Walt saw something heartbreaking come into the kid’s eyes.  He was familiar with the gratified looks of his students, when they received his rare praise.  Jesse didn’t look gratified.  He looked shocked, unbelieving and then…gladdened, his whole face brightening like a kid on Christmas morning.  Walt wondered, suddenly, how long it had been since anyone had told Jesse they were proud of him.  

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”   Walt turned abruptly, feeling another cough coming on.  He left Jesse standing silently in the kitchen.

***

Mr. White and Jesse were out in the desert.  The RV was parked on a wide, solitary plain of dry brown grass, stony hills looming hazily in the distance, the sky a light, luminous blue.  Jesse sat in a mesh lawn chair reading, while Mr. White stayed inside the RV, mixing the batch. 

Despite yesterday’s words, Mr. White had been, if anything, more grouchy with Jesse today –either grimly silent or scathingly critical.  Finally, he had abruptly suggested Jesse leave him to work alone, conveying the impression that Jesse's company was simply too much for him to bear.  Jesse had exited the RV with relief, leaving Mr. White to his miserable self.

Suddenly Mr. White burst out of the RV, coughing, and stumbled into the grass, landing hard on his knees.   Jesse jumped up, hurried over to him.  “Yo!  You okay?” 

Mr. White was dizzily trying to get up, yanking off the gas mask. 

“Did you breathe that shit?  Come here!”

Mr. White struggled to his feet.  “No, I’m just dizzy.”  Shrugged off Jesse’s hands and lurched towards the lawn chair.

Jesse followed.  “Sit…sit down.”

“I’m burning up!”

Jesse gestured to the rubber lab apron.  “Take this off!  Sit down.  Get some air.”  He hurried closely after the older man.

Walt discarded the apron and rubber gloves and collapsed into the lawn chair.  Jesse stood over him, fanning him with the magazine.  Walt was perspiring heavily, his glasses dropped on the grass.  He ran shaky hands over his face and neck, “Oh God...”  Unzipped the white jumpsuit, exposing his bare chest.   “Yeah…that’s better.”  Turned his face up to the sky, breathing heavily. 

Jesse stared at the round red mark on Walt’s bare chest.  He stopped waving the magazine.  “When were you going to tell me?”

Walt had his face in his hands.  He glanced up briefly.  “Tell you what?”

Jesse gestured to the mark.  “Cancer!  You got it, right?”

They looked at each other.  Walt asked, slowly.  “How did you know?”

“My aunt had one of those dots on her, to target the radiation," Jesse said.  "Where is it, in your lung?”  Walt looked down at his chest, zipped the jumpsuit back up.   Jesse stood over him, glaring.  “I’m your partner man, you should have told me!”  He turned away, threw the magazine down.  “God, that’s not cool, okay, not at all.”  He turned back to Walt.  “What stage are you?”

Walt’s face was back in his hands.  He sighed.  “Three A.”

“Gone to your lymph nodes.”  Jesse looked down.

Walt looked up, surprised.  He put his glasses back on.  Regarded Jesse.   There was a brief silence.  “Your aunt.  How bad was she when they caught it?”

Jesse stared at his feet.  “Bad enough.  She didn’t last long.”

Walt sat back.  “How long?”

“Seven months.”  Jesse glanced at Walt.  “I get it now.  That’s why you’re doing all this!  You want to make some cash for your people before you check out.”

Walt was rubbing his forehead.  “You got a problem with that?”

“You tell me!  You’re the one who looks like he just crawled out of a microwave.”

Walt was crouched over, holding his stomach painfully.  Jesse watched with concerned eyes.  “You going to be able to finish the batch?”

“Yes…” Walt said, irritated.

Jesse set his lips.  “All right.”

Walt started to rise, coughed, sank back.  Breathed out heavily.  “No,” he said, defeated.  “ You do it.”

Jesse raised his head slowly.  Stared at Walt.  “Me?”

“Yeah.”  Jesse said nothing.  Walt gestured roughly to the RV.  “What happened to your …`mad skills?’”

Jesse heaved an anxious sigh, eyes going to the distant horizon. 

Walt looked at his young partner.  He abruptly reached over and threw the gas mask at Jesse.  “Go on.  Here!”  Jesse caught the mask reluctantly.  Walt continued, “You do it.  You can do it!”  Jesse stood still, staring at him. 

Walt dropped his head back into his hands.   “If you have any questions, I’ll be right out here.”

Jesse walked over, picked up the rubber apron.  Glanced again at Walt, then walked towards the RV.  Said over his shoulder, “Next time, put an ice pack on your head during chemo.  My aunt said it’s helpful with the…hair loss.”

Walt turned and stared at the younger man’s back.  Jesse entered the RV, closing the door firmly behind him.

Walt lowered his head, closing his eyes.  _Seven months_. 

Inside the dimly lit RV, Jesse leaned over the counter, resting his weight on his hands.  He looked up, tentatively grasped the empty boiling flask.  Took a couple of breaths.  He could do this.  Took another moment.  Then donned the mask, tightening the straps. 

Went to work.

***

The sun was setting.  Walt sat quietly in the lawn chair, watching the darkening sky.  The kid had popped his head out a couple of times with minor questions, but also, Walt thought, to check on him.  The batch would be setting by now.

Jesse came out of the RV, discarding the mask and gloves.  He pulled the lab apron over his head, dropping it on the grass.  Stood over Walt.

“How you doing?”

Walt was staring at the distant hills.  “Okay.”

“I’m finished.”

“Yeah.”

“I think it went okay.  I—“

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

A pause.  “You getting cold, Mr. White?  You want your jacket?”

Walt glanced up at Jesse.  Smiled slightly.   “Come here.”  He reached out an arm.

Jesse shifted a bit closer.  Walt wrapped his arm around Jesse’s legs, gathering him.  He rested his head against the younger man’s hip.  Jesse hesitated, then placed a hand tentatively on Walt’s shoulder.

“I’ve started to react to the treatment," Walt said.  "Haven’t been feeling good the past couple of days.”

“I can see that.”

“You know a lot about cancer.”

“Yeah, well, I looked after my aunt when she got sick.  Took her to appointments and things.”

“Is that why you’re in her house?”

“Yeah.”

“Were you with her to the end?”

“Pretty much.”

Walt was silent for a moment.  “Did it get bad?”

Jesse looked down.  “Yes.”

Walt closed his eyes.  Felt Jesse’s warm body beneath his cheek.  He let out a shaky breath.  “I’m going to keep working right until the end.  As long as I can.  You understand?”

Jesse swallowed.  “I do.”

“I need you, Jesse, to help me finish this.  Can I count on you?”

“Yes.”

Walt looked up.  The kid was gazing down at him, his eyes sad.

Walt covered Jesse’s hand with his own, gripping Jesse’s fingers.  “Jesse, I need your promise.  You’re not going anywhere until this is done.  You understand?”

“I do, Mr. White.  I promise.”

They were both silent.  “Your aunt was lucky to have you.”  Walt said eventually.

Jesse's voice was quiet. “It was hard seeing her go.”

“I’m sure it was.”

The sun was down, a thin red glow against the black hills.  Walt stood up.  “Well, I guess it’s time we had a look at that batch.  Can you get this stuff?” Gestured to the chair and discarded lab clothing.

“Sure.”

They re-entered the RV.  Overhead, the sky was a flawless dark blue, stars winking remotely in the cold, transparent air.

***

The RV was parked in Jesse’s driveway.  Jesse was about to leave when Walt stopped him, putting his hands on Jesse’s shoulders.  He bent his head towards his young partner.  Jesse didn’t meet his eyes.  Turned his face away. 

“Hey.”  Walt caught Jesse’s chin and tilted his face up.  “You did a good job today.” 

Jesse looked at him, his eyes flashing in the dark.  Walt smiled.  “We’re going to make money.”  He leaned forward for a kiss.

Jesse drew back.  “Mr. White-”

Walt’s fingers tightened.  “Jesse, please don’t resist me.”  He kissed him.  When Jesse didn’t respond, Walt ran his tongue lightly over Jesse’s lips.  “Open your mouth.”  Jesse’s lips parted slightly and Walt leaned in, kissing him deeply.   “Jesse,” he whispered.  “Put your arms around me.”  After a moment, Jesse complied.  Walt smiled.  “That’s good.  Now, kiss me back.”  His mouth sought Jesse’s again.

Jesse stood silently.  Mr. White was holding him, surrounding him with his presence, his clean laundry smell in Jesse’s nose.  Jesse suddenly remembered the shadowy figure behind his former teacher, glimpsed just for a moment.  He shivered.

Mr. White's hand was on his face, fingers gently pressing into his jaw.  “Jesse.  Kiss me back.  You want to.  _Now do it_.”  His mouth pressed down again, insistent. 

Jesse felt a dark tide, rising up inside him. 

Mr. White was known to him, now.  Someone familiar.  His strong body, with its warmth.  And now to have this understanding. That Mr. White was…dying. 

Jesse remembered his aunt’s rapid decline.  The growing distance between her and the living, the healthy.  The deathwatch her presence became, at the end.  Her final, febrile grasps at life as her body disengaged. 

He felt tears in his eyes.  Blinked them back.  Then opened his mouth under Mr. White's.

Walt felt Jesse’s lips softening, parting.  Jesse raised his chin, lifted his mouth, slid his tongue delicately between Walt's lips.  Walt felt his own breath leaving him. His whole being was concentrated on Jesse, aware of nothing but his partner.  Jesse was kissing him intently.  He had pressed his body in closely, embracing Walt with slender arms.  Walt held him, overcome. 

Jesse gradually became still.  He was a slim, silky haired shape in the dark, breathing softly against Walt's mouth.  Walt held him a moment longer, then reluctantly broke away.  Jesse's eyes were closed.  Walt kissed both eyelids, stroked Jesse’s cheek.  “I wasn't planning to stay,” he said quietly.

“That’s okay.”  Jesse’s voice sounded faraway to his own ears.  He struggled to regain a normal tone. “I want to sell tomorrow.  Probably stay out most of the night.  See as many of my customers as possible. Can we cook the day after?”

“I guess, sure.  I could use a break.” 

Jesse’s arms were still clasped around Walt’s waist.  He started to let go.  “Jesse,” Walt said.  Jesse slowly looked at him.  “You understand that you’re mine.”  Walt continued in a low voice. “No one else's. I’ve claimed you. As long as we’re doing this, you're with me. Not with anyone else." He held Jesse's gaze. "Not to be with them," he whispered, finally. "Do you understand what I'm saying?  You're...mine.”

Jesse’s eyes were grave.  “And what if I don’t want that?”  he whispered back.

Walt smiled at him suddenly. “You do though.”  His hand went to the hard bulge of Jesse’s cock.  Stroked slowly up and down.  Jesse turned his head away sharply.  “Stop it!”  

Walt laughed quietly.  “I'll remind you if I have to.”  He took Jesse's chin between his fingers, kissed him lightly on the mouth.  “I’ll miss you tomorrow.  But I’m looking forward to the money.  Good luck out there.”  He left the RV.

Jesse stood in the dark narrow space for a few more moments.  Heard Mr. White’s car pulling out of the driveway.  He felt tears rising again, unaccountably, and closed his eyes, fighting them down.


	3. Chapter 3

Mr. White was unhappy.  Jesse was furious with him.

He had spent hours last night selling their product, on his feet, covering the territory of run down motels, 24 hour fast food joints, all the various dark and harshly lit fluorescent corners of the gritty urban nightscape.  His customers’ territory.  Taking a bump occasionally for courtesy and to keep himself going.  Now his head was hurting in the bright desert sun.  And Mr. White, that bastard, _yelling at him?_   For not bringing back _enough return?_   For lacking _initiative?_  

Mr. White was sitting grouchily on the steps of the RV, already dressed in his white lab jumpsuit, when Jesse sauntered up to him and dumped twin bundles of bills as well as a pre-paid cell phone in his lap.  He seemed markedly unimpressed with the amount of money Jesse had stayed up all night to bring back.  “…How much meth did you sell?”  he demanded, after some preliminary grumbling. 

Jesse was leaning against the RV, glaring at his partner, his initial high spirits gone.  “Nearly an ounce.”

Mr. White stood up.  Threw the cellphone on the RV’s floor.  “Last time I checked there were _16 ounces_ to a pound.  What’d you do with the rest, smoke it?”

Jesse was enraged.   “I’ve been out there all night slinging crystal!”  He snapped.  “You think it’s cake, moving a pound of meth one teenth at a time?”

Mr. White shrugged, shook his head.  “Why are you selling it in such small quantities?  Why don’t you just sell the whole pound at once?” 

“To _who_?”  Jesse returned sarcastically.  “What do I look like, Scarface?”

Mr. White shook the wad of bills under Jesse’s nose.   “This is unacceptable,“  he said in a harsh voice.  “I am breaking the _law_ here!  This return is too little for the risk.”  His voice rose.   “I thought you’d be ready for another pound today!”

Jesse straightened, pushing himself off the RV’s side.  “You may know a lot about chemistry man, but you don’t know _jack_ about slinging dope.”

“Well I’ll tell you, I know a lack of motivation when I see it!”

Jesse swore under his breath, started to respond, then restrained himself.  Turned his eyes skywards, then out to the horizon.

Mr. White continued.  “You’ve got to be more _imaginative._  You know?  Just think outside the box here!  We have to move our product in bulk, wholesale.  Now…how do we do that?”

Jesse considered.  “You mean like, to a distributor?”

Mr. White jumped on his words.  “Yes, yes!  That what we need!  We need a distributor.  Now, do you know anyone like _that?_ ”

Jesse leaned back against the RV.  Looked at Mr. White sardonically.  “Yeah.  I mean I used to.  Until you _killed him_.”

Mr. White had nothing to say to that.  He paced.  Slapped his hand against the RV in frustration.  Took a few breaths, a scowl on his craggy face.  Then, voice artificially calm, he responded.  “So.  Who took Krazy 8’s place?”

Jesse sat down, looked down at his hands.  “Some guy named Tuco.  A badass from what I hear.”

“Tuco.  Okay.”  Mr. White answered.  He waved his arms encouragingly.  “So then just go talk to Tuco!”

Jesse snorted.  “Right, like, `Hello sir, I know you don’t know me, but… would you be interested in a felony quantity of methamphetamine?’”

Mr. White’s rumbling voice rose.  “Well, yes, but maybe with a little more _salesmanship_ perhaps?”

Jesse had had enough.  “You just don’t get it man, okay?”  He yelled.  “This guy’s O.G!”

Mr. White yelled back.  “What –what does that _mean_?”

Jesse got to his feet.  Shouted at Mr. White’s thick head.  “Jesus, look!  He’s _upper level,_ man!  He’s not going to do business with some dude he doesn’t know!  You don’t understand the way it works.  You can’t just bum rush some high level ice man and start cutting deals, okay?  You need an _intro_.  You need someone to _vouch_.”

Mr. White was listening, looking at him.  He asked in a calmer voice. “Well, who introduced you to Krazy 8?”

Jesse wasn’t calmed.  “Emilio, and that’s only because I knew him from like, third grade-” he spat.  “  -and we can’t talk to _Emilio_ _either_ because- ”

Mr. White interrupted the second reminder of murder, throwing up his hands.  “All right, all right, all _right!_ ”

“Look, I’m telling you, Mr. White, it’s too _risky._ ”  Jesse took a breath, tried a last appeal to reason.  “Okay?  I mean, we’re making money.  Why can’t you just be satisfied with the way it is?”

Mr. White spoke over him, slamming his hand against the RV.  “Oh give it up!”   He was shouting again, glaring at Jesse.  “Jesus!  Just grow some fucking balls!”  Disappeared into the RV.

Jesse looked disbelievingly after his partner.   He turned, gazed at the distant desert horizon.  Shook his head.  “Wow,” he whispered to no one.  Then, temper rising, he stalked into the RV.  Mr. White was setting up at the counter.  He didn’t look up as Jesse entered.

Jesse stopped in front of him.  “Yo, Mr. White.”

Mr. White continued to ignore him.

“Mr. _White_ ,” Jesse bit out.

The miserable bastard turned his way.  Jesse stared at him.  “Are you calling me a pussy?” 

Mr. White’s voice was sarcastic.  “What did it _sound_ like I was calling you?”

“Well, _fuck you,_ man.”  Jesse said.  “You don’t know the first thing about what you’re asking.”

Mr. White snorted.  “Well maybe I don’t, not having the benefit of your…’professional experience.’”  He glared at his young partner.  There was a moment of hostile silence.   

Mr. White’s gaze became considering.   He asked in a different tone.  “But let’s say I _did_ understand.  And I asked you anyway.”  Paused.  “Would you do it?”

Jesse stared back at him, his jaw set.  That bastard, hiding away out here in the RV, telling _him_ he was a coward.  “Yeah,” he said.  His voice was cold. “I’d do it.”  Mr. White was quiet.  “But you know that already don’t you?”  Jesse continued, softly.  “Mr. White.”

Jesse was staring at him, standing so still that Walt had the sudden strange sensation he was looking at a photograph.  The way Jesse held himself, that level, unsmiling gaze, reminded Walt of those old Civil War pictures of soldiers -young men, long dead, stiffly holding antiquated weapons.   Their eyes, caught on camera, watchful but distant, staring towards the coming battlefields.

Jesse’s look, Walt realized, was the way young men must look at the older men who sent them in war to face danger on the frontlines.  A silent acknowledgement, in that shared glance, of what was really being asked.   But there was no reluctance in Jesse’s eyes.   A cold recognition only.

Walt caught himself.  This was a ridiculous comparison.  Asking the kid to connect with a meth distributor was not the same as ordering him into battle.  He turned away.  “What I’m asking for, Jesse, is for you to do what needs to be done for our business in the time we’ve got.  Do I have to spell it out?  I think you’re smart enough.  I hope.” 

Jesse’s gaze sharpened, changing from coolly distant to annoyed.  He set his lips.  “I’ll look into it.  Prick.”

Walt resumed his activities at the counter.  “Let’s get started, shall we?  We're here to _work,_ or have you forgotten?”

They continued with the cook in silence.

***

They were back at Jesse’s house.  

Walt held the day’s batch in one hand.  He and Jesse stood, unspeaking, in Jesse’s front room, regarding each other with unfriendly eyes.

Walt was uncertain, reluctant to approach Jesse in this current mood.  He started to turn away. 

Jesse stopped him in his tracks.

Staring at Walt, Jesse pulled off his knit hat, revealing ruffled blonde hair.  He dropped the hat to the floor.  Then he shrugged out of his baggy red jacket.  Dropped it on the floor.   Walt stared back, motionless.

Jesse pulled his sweatshirt and t-shirt over his head.  Dropped them on the floor.  Walt stared.  Seeing Jesse’s body without the oversized clothes was always disconcerting -his lean, finely muscled form, suddenly revealed.

Jesse put a toe to the heel of each shoe, tugging them off. Kicked them aside. Pulled off his socks. Then, still looking at Walt, he undid his pants. Stepped out of them and kicked them away. He was now wearing only a pair of soft cotton undershorts. His white skin gleamed in the dim room.  

Jesse smiled at Walt without humour.  Walt met his eyes silently.

“So.  What’s it going to be today?”  Jesse asked, conversationally.  His eyes were steady on Walt’s.  “You going to fuck me over the table?  Force me to suck you off again?  Whip me?  Spank me?  Tie me up?"

Walt was silent, transfixed. 

Jesse raised his chin slightly.  His blue gaze was cool.  "Tell me," he said, "what did you have in mind for me  _today_ , Mr. White?”  

Walt swallowed, put his hands in his pockets.  Considered the young man in front of him.  Jesse waited quietly. 

“I think I want to tie you up,” he replied, eventually.

Jesse let out a breath.  Both of them remained still, Walt’s words settling into the silent room.  Then, slowly, without breaking their shared gaze, Jesse walked towards Walt.  Halted in front of him, held out his hands. 

Crossed them at the wrist.

***

Jesse and Mr. White were in Jesse’s bedroom.  Jesse was kneeling, naked, facing the brass headrail of the bed.  On his wrists, a pair of terrycloth wristbands.   Mr. White was fastening him to the bars, using the flexible plastic pull-fasteners sold at hardware stores.   He carefully positioned each fastener over the insulating fabric on Jesse’s wrists.

“Where did you get this stuff?”  Jesse asked.

“It was in my pockets.”  Mr. White replied.

“Dude, seriously, you were carrying these around in your _pockets_?” 

Mr. White smiled.  “I’ve been wanting to try this out since I saw it.”  He patted the headrail.  “But I think going forward, we’ll keep them in your nightstand.”

 Jesse swallowed, looking at the wall.  “What are you going to do?”

Mr. White’s hand went to Jesse's bottom.  Reached between his legs, stroked the underside of his erect cock.

“I’m not sure yet.”  He stepped back.  “I think I just want to enjoy the sight for a minute.”

There was a pause, Mr. White silent.  Jesse was getting increasingly nervous.  He twisted his head back over his shoulder.  “Mr. White, don’t hurt me, okay?”

He heard a breath of laughter.  “Don’t worry Jesse, I won’t hurt you more than you’re ready for.”

Jesse was breathing shallowly, his muscles tense.  He closed his eyes.  He heard a rustle of clothing behind him.  The clink of a belt buckle.  “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to add some colour.”  Mr. White’s belt hit Jesse’s bottom with a sharp slap.

“Ow!”

A pause.  “Yes, that’s the right colour.”  Another burning slap.

“Ow –shit!”  Jesse twisted his body, pulling against the restraints.

“Stay in the position.  I don’t want to hit something I wasn’t intending to.”  Another smack.  Then another.

“Mr. White, _stop._   Enough already!”

“I’m aiming for a certain effect here, Jesse.  Be patient.”  The belt slapped him again.

Jesse let out a harsh gasp.  “Are you doing this because you’re mad at me?  Because of the money?”

“No Jesse.  If I was really punishing you, it would feel a lot different than this.”  The belt descended again.

“Mr. White, please—“

“A few more.”  A sharp crack.  Then another one, harder than the last.

Jesse was wincing.  The belt hit him again. And again. More blows. Jesse bit his lip and closed his eyes, determined not to make a sound. He clutched the bars, lowering his head. Finally, a pause. He heard Mr. White approaching behind him.  Then a large, warm hand was on his bottom, exploring the stinging welts.  “Yes, that’s the look I wanted.”  Mr. White said.  He squeezed.  Jesse grimaced with discomfort.

“I like this colour on you,” said Mr. White, stroking.  “It enhances you.”

Jesse was struggling to speak normally. “You think you could untie me now?”

“Not yet.”

Jesse heard Mr. White moving around behind him.  Removing his clothes.  A drawer opening and closing.

Then he climbed onto the bed, kneeling behind Jesse.  A hand, slippery with lubricant, grasped Jesse’s cock, moving up and down.  Roughly thumbed and then stroked the sensitive base of the glans, running fingers lightly over the tip.

“Ohmigod,”  Jesse whispered.  He leaned forward into Mr. White’s hand.  Mr. White took his other hand and stroked oiled fingers along the crack of Jesse’s ass, dragging them slowly over the sensitive skin.  Cupped, then grasped his balls, holding them firmly.

Jesse’s head fell back.  He was arching against the restraints, gripping the bars.  Mr. White kissed him on the side of his neck.  Then, still grasping Jesse’s cock in his other hand, he pushed two fingers into Jesse’s anus, searching for, and pressing down on the hidden prostate gland.  His fingers prodded, stroked, buried deep in Jesse’s body.  Jesse shuddered under the electric touch, straining.  Mr. White’s hands continued about their work strongly, expertly, pulling, pushing, stroking.   Jesse was gasping, his eyes closed, pressing himself against Mr. White as much as the restraints would allow.

Mr. White abruptly withdrew.  Released Jesse’s cock.  Jesse heard his breath, rasping.  “What now, Jesse?” he asked.   His deep voice was hoarse.

Jesse moaned.  “Oh God, Mr. White, what are you _doing_?”

“I think it’s time you asked me for something. “  Mr. White said roughly.  “What are you asking me for?”

Jesse’s jaw was clenched.  “Don’t _do this_ man!”

“Ask me, Jesse.”  Mr. White was breathing heavily.  He leaned forward.  Ran his fingers delicately along Jesse’s cock.  Whispered.  “ _Ask me.”_

Jesse’s voice was equally soft.  “Fuck me.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Fuck me.”  Jesse said louder.  Whispered.  “Please…”

“ _Who_ are you asking, Jesse?”  Mr. White pressed his thumb against Jesse’s anus.  His other hand loosely grasped Jesse’s cock, travelling slickly up and down.

“Oh _God -_ alright!  _Mr. White…”_ Jesse’s breath was harsh in his throat.  “Please.  _Fuck me_.”

Jesse heard Mr. White's soft laugh.  Then he grasped Jesse's hips.  Put his cock against Jesse and pushed in, with a rapid, smooth stroke.  Jesse bit his lip at the stretching pain, welcoming it, the burning sensation a relief.  Mr. White partially withdrew, then thrust into Jesse again.  And again, his cock filling him, lighting him up from the inside.  Jesse was writhing, struggling against the restraints, his piercing pleasure amplified by the throbbing soreness in his ass, by his helpless, cramped position.  Mr. White’s rough, oiled hand found Jesse’s cock, fingers enfolding it tightly, pumping it.  He was whispering to Jesse between thrusts.  “You can’t come yet, Jesse.  Wait for me.”  Jesse rolled his head silently back, feeling the other man’s face pressed against his neck.  He felt Mr. White’s cock jerk inside him, Mr. White’s fingers tightening convulsively around him.  “ _Now_ Jesse,” Mr. White gasped. 

Jesse let himself come, the orgasm ripping through him.  He heard his voice from a distance, crying out.  And Mr. White, groaning in his deep baritone as he thrust heavily into Jesse one final time, his cock pulsing, his hands clamped hard on Jesse’s body.

***

Walt was leaving the room.  Jesse, alarmed, called after him.  “Hey!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”

He returned, sitting on the bed, hands on Jesse’s wrists, cutting through the plastic restraints with kitchen shears.  Jesse fell back in relief, peeling off the wristbands and rubbing the sore skin.

Walt pulled one wrist over to inspect it.  “Looks okay.  I don’t think you’ll bruise.”

Jesse lay back against the pillows.  He regarded Walt.  “You're such a sick, twisted bastard.”

Walt grinned at him.  “I try.”

Jesse looked at him with a serious expression.  “I'm really pissed at you.” 

“That’s okay.  You’re allowed.”

Jesse stared at him a moment longer, blue eyes shadowed.  Then he reached over to the nightstand and shook a cigarette out of the pack that was lying there.  Lit up.

Walt rose, put on his clothes.   Stood over Jesse.  “Call me when you have some more information about the distributor,” he said quietly.

Jesse looked at him, nodded without speaking.

Walt left.

***

The next afternoon, a cellphone call, interrupting an uncomfortable classroom visit from Walt’s DEA agent brother-in-law, Hank.

Jesse’s throaty voice.  “Yo.  What’s up Mr. W?”

A nervous glance at Hank.  “Speaking.”

“Bad time to talk?”

“Absolutely!”

“Okay, so just listen.”  Jesse sounded excited, happy to relay good news.  “You know that guy we were talking about, Tuco?  Turns out my boy Skinny Pete was in the same cellblock with him over at Los Lunas!  So we got our _in._   We’re hauling a pound to the dude right now.”

Walt felt a chill of apprehension.  In front of Hank, he couldn’t say the words he wanted to, which were “Be careful.  Be safe.” 

“Okay then,” Walt said cheerily.   “Well, thank you, thank you very much for calling.”

He put the cell phone away, closed his eyes briefly.  Then turned his attention, with an effort, back to his unwanted visitor.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Where was Jesse?   He'd been out of contact over 24 hours.  Walt was increasingly distracted, taking every moment of privacy to call Jesse’s cell phone.

Finally, an answer, but a strange voice, with bad news. 

A rush to the hospital, apprehensively entering the ward.  Jesse lying frighteningly motionless on the hospital bed, an unprepossessing youth with a weedy moustache, baggy clothes and black knit cap, sitting by his side. 

Walt approached the bed slowly.  Jesse lay on his back, eyes closed, his head rigidly supported with a thick plastic neck brace, tubes taped to his chest.  His face was white, still.

The youth looked up.   “You the guy?”

Walt was staring at Jesse, his expression stark.   Moved closer to the bed.  “Yeah, I’m the guy.”  Spoke with some difficulty, his mouth dry.  “How is he?” 

“Got some busted ribs and like that.  Got messed up pretty good.”  The youth swallowed, looked down.  “I was all like, damn Tuco, chill _ese_!  I don’t know what got into him.  Seriously.”

Walt leaned over his unconscious partner.

“Oh, he’s out man,” Jesse’s friend supplied helpfully.  “Way out.  They’ve got him doped up big time.”

Walt looked away.

The friend looked at him curiously.  “So you’re the cook, huh?  Yo, I didn’t catch your name.”

Walt could barely breathe.  He sat down.  After a moment, he trusted himself to speak.  “Tell me about this Tuco,” he said quietly.  “Tell me everything about him.”

***

Jesse lay, shirtless, prone on a mattress in the RV.   From outside, he could hear the voice of his chipper real estate agent as she marshalled another set of potential buyers down his driveway.  Not buyers for _his_ haunted house, apparently.  He shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position.  His ribs, tightly bandaged, were still painful, and no position, lying, sitting or standing, was easy for very long.

There was a knock on the RV’s door.  Annoyed, Jesse called out, “Yo, it’s _appointment only_!” in as discouraging a voice as he could muster.  

The door opened.

Mr. White came in. 

Jesse felt a chill.  His first thought was that this was the shadow man of his mind's eye, entering in Mr. White's place.   Bald, his harsh features thrown into stark relief against a gleaming, narrow skull, Mr. White had the severe elegance of a bird of prey.  His cold green eyes no longer seemed incongruous in his face.  He walked slowly to stand over Jesse, gazed down at him attentively. 

“How are you feeling?”

“About as good as you look.  Jeez, you look like…” Jesse gestured to his own head.  “…Lex Luthor.”  He tried to rise, hissed with discomfort and sank back against the pillows.

“Listen, I visited you in the hospital, but you were asleep.”

“Yeah, Skinny Pete said you wanted Tuco’s address.  Acting like you were all out for blood.  But you're alive, so obviously you wised up.”

Mr. White had turned away.  He said over his shoulder.  “No, I did go see him.”

Jesse was disbelieving.  “Bullshit.”

Mr. White chose to ignore this.  “So are you selling your house?”

Jesse angled himself up, resting his head against the RV’s wall.  He answered, “I got two dudes that turned into _(ghosts, weighing on me)_ raspberry slushie and flushed down my toilet.  I can’t even take a proper dump in there.  That whole damned house has got to be haunted by now.”   He regarded Mr. White sceptically.  “You didn’t actually go see…Tuco?”

Mr. White took a manila envelope out of his jacket pocket, handed it to Jesse.  “Here.”  Jesse took it, perplexed.  Opened it.  A stack of bills.

“That is seventeen-five,”  Mr. White was saying.  “Your half of the thirty five thousand.  Plus there’s an extra fifteen in there, it’s all yours.”  Mr. White nodded at him.  “You’ve earned it. “

Jesse stared at him.  “You got this money from Tuco,” he said blankly.  Gestured with the bills.

Mr. White’s eyes were glinting behind his glasses.  “Yeah.”

“…So Tuco _gave_ you this, is what you’re saying,” Jesse continued.

“We made a deal,” Mr. White said calmly.

Jesse’s voice rose.  “You made a _deal_?”

“That’s right.”

Jesse got painfully to his feet.  “Wait…how, why would you make a deal with that scumbag?”  Gestured to his bandaged ribs.  “You see what he did to me?”  He was shouting.

Mr. White’s voice also rose.  “Because I think that we can do business together.”  Quietened.  “We came to an… understanding.”

Jesse was furious.  “No way, man, okay?  No understanding!” 

Mr. White’s eyes were intense.  “Take a look at the money in your hand.  Now just imagine making that every week.  That’s right!  Two pounds a week.  Thirty five thousand a pound.”

Jesse’s voice was scathing.  “Without even talking to me, you…you told this insane…ass-clown…dead-eyed killer that, uh, we would…give him _two pounds a week_?”

Mr. White was gesturing.  “We’ll just scale up our operation!  We’ll add a few more hours-“

“Don’t talk to me about hours!”  Jesse shouted.  “What about _pseudo_ , man?  How’re we going to get _that_?”

Mr. White stopped in mid-sentence.  He opened his mouth, shook his head.

Jesse continued, “You think the meth fairy is just going to bring it to us?  God, it takes me a _week_ to get this stuff!  I’m driving all the way out to Las Cruces.  Two hundred miles each way to meet up with my smurfs—“

“ -Smurfs?”

Jesse continued his partner’s education.  “ _Dudes_ who go to the drugstores and get a couple boxes at a time and then sell them to me.  And that’s maybe only good for, like, maybe a half-pound worth.”  Said caustically, “See, _that’s_ the bottleneck in your…brilliant business plan...” 

Mr. White had lost his patience.  “Al _right_!”

‘’ -Of course you would have known that if you'd just _asked me_.”  Jesse turned away, fuming.

Walt stared at his partner’s angry back.  He thought about his recent journey to Tuco’s lair.  He'd gone in there not caring whether he came out.  A different kind of freedom, that. 

“Jesse…”

Jesse glared at him over his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry you got hurt.”  Walt began tentatively.

Jesse snorted.  “Yeah, well that makes two of us.”

Walt regarded him silently.  Jesse had his back to him.  He was leaning his hands on the RV’s counter, head lowered.  The white bandage wrapped around his slim torso stood out prominently in the dim light.  Walt took a step towards him, stopped.  Tried again. “You know how I got this idea?”

Jesse turned to face him, blue eyes frosty.   “Which idea …you’ve had so many great ones.”

Walt acknowledged the hit.  “Thanks for that.  The idea to cook meth.”

“Oh.  The big, master plan.”  Jesse crossed his arms.  “Sure.  Please enlighten me.”

Walt ignored this.  “I was watching on the news.  My brother-in-law Hank taking down a meth lab.  I saw… _rolls_ of bills, dozens of them.  Hank said there was over _seven hundred thousand dollars_ on that table.  And he said it wasn’t even the biggest take he’d seen.”  Walt shook his head.  “And when I saw that money… _when I saw that money, Jesse_ , I knew that money was _my_ money, just sitting there, waiting for me.  I knew that…all I had to do was…be prepared to take it.  I knew that…if I _focused_ on that money, it would come to me!”

Jesse’s expression didn’t change.  “So…what’s your point?”

“My _point,”_ Walt said sincerely, “is that you're too focused on the _problems_.   _Tuco_ , for example _._ He isn’t important.  He’s just a doorway to the _money._    You’ve got to focus on the _money_.  How to get at it.  _That’s_ what matters.  Nothing else.”

Jesse was unimpressed.  “Uh-huh.  I think you’ll be focusing on Tuco _a lot_ when you can’t give him two pounds next week and he…busts your ribs in!”

Walt shrugged.  “I’ll figure it out.”

“How… how will you figure it out!“

“I don’t _know_ yet, Jesse, that’s what ‘figuring it out’ means.  But we’ll do this.”

“Oh, suddenly _I_ come into the picture again,” Jesse said.

Walt smiled slightly.  “You were never out of the picture.”

“Great," Jesse replied.  "Lucky me.”

Walt stopped smiling.  “You don’t seem too curious about how I got our money.”

“Are you asking me to thank you?”  Jesse asked scornfully.  “After I nearly got killed?  Thanks for nothing.”

“No, I realize expecting thanks is a bit much, coming from you.”  Walt bit back.  “I was asking about curiosity.   Aren't you _curious_ as to how I got our money after Tuco stole from you and beat you up?” 

Jesse’s eyes narrowed.  “Well since you’re telling me anyway, _sure_ man.  I’m _dying_ of curiosity.  How?”

“I got it by _outsmarting_ him.  By figuring out how to go in there, force him to give me the cash, and walk out alive.  _That’s_ what _I_ bring to the table Jesse.  The ability to _think_ my way through a problem.  You might try it sometime.”

“Oh, _screw_ you!” 

Walt’s voice became harsh.  “Yes, that’s always your answer isn’t it?  Fuck you, screw you.  I think I need some respect from you.”

“ _Respect._   Respect this!”  Jesse raised his middle finger.

Infuriated, Walt grabbed Jesse roughly by the shoulders.  Started to shake him, then stopped, appalled at himself.  The kid’s eyes were fixed silently on him, his mouth clenched.  He was breathing hard.  The broken ribs.

Walt carefully released him, took a step back.  “I’m sorry.”

“Get out of here.”

“No, I don’t think I can do that.  Not with you mad at me like this.”

“Dude, I will never _not_ be mad at you!”

“I’ll fix that.”

“No _way_ , Mr. White.   I can barely move.   Don’t come near me.”

Walt looked at the younger man.  Jesse’s blue eyes blazed at him, his face set in hostile lines.  With his fine features though, it was the expression of an angry angel.  An angel with fluffy blonde hair. 

Walt let out a breath.  “I’m not asking you to move.”   He approached Jesse slowly.  Jesse edged away, came up trapped against the RV’s counter.  Walt reached out a hand.  Ran his fingers over Jesse’s cheekbone and jaw, admiring their purity of form.

“In fact," he said, "I want you to stay very still.”

Walt trailed his hand slowly down Jesse’s throat, over his collarbone, over the flat muscles of his chest.  Brushed a thumb over a nipple.  Jesse looked away from him.  Said, “You are unbelievable.”  But the words were uttered with less force.

Walt pressed his lips to the pulse point under Jesse’s ear.   He felt Jesse raise his chin slightly.

Walt placed his hands on the counter, trapping Jesse between them.  Leaning forward, he kissed Jesse lightly on the face, lips brushing his forehead, eyelids, cheeks and chin.  He kissed Jesse’s nose.  Jesse stood tensely, lips slightly parted, frowning.   

Walt bent his head down to Jesse’s chest.  Ran his tongue lightly over a nipple, circling it.  Then took the nipple strongly into his mouth, biting down.  He felt Jesse breathing harshly, ribs straining against the constricting material of the bandage.  He moved his mouth to the other nipple, gave it the same treatment.  Jesse’s hands went to Walt’s body.

“No.  Don’t move.”  Walt said in a low voice.  Jesse dropped his hands back to his sides.

Jesse felt the rough stubble of Mr. White’s shaven head brushing against his bare skin.  The taller, larger man was leaning over him, broad shoulders and arms trapping him in place.  With his dark clothes, sharply angled features and hard, intent mouth, Mr. White looked completely different from the unalarming science teacher who had walked up Jesse’s driveway not long ago.  Jesse closed his eyes.  He had a vision of himself being handled gently by a large, craggy beast, friendly for the moment. 

Mr. White’s hand went lightly to his cock.  Jesse turned his head.  “I said _don’t move_ , Jesse.”  Mr. White’s voice was sharp.  Softer.  “Stay still.”

Mr. White undid Jesse’s pants, pulled them down.  Going to his knees, he took Jesse’s cock into his mouth, closing on it tightly.  Jesse felt himself weakening under the intense sensation, the hot wet mouth surrounding him.  It was painfully difficult to stand motionless, legs rigid, letting Mr. White do his work.  He clenched his fists.

Mr. White’s mouth started moving rapidly up and down.  Jesse swallowed a moan.  He set his teeth.   Mr. White’s hand went to his balls, grasped them firmly around the base, pulling the skin taut.  His mouth dragged strongly, repeatedly over Jesse’s cock and at the same time he pulled on Jesse’s balls with a slow, controlled motion, drawing Jesse slightly towards him.  Mr. White’s tongue pressed hard against him, curling around him.

Pleasure surged through Jesse’s body, crackling down every nerve.   He felt himself come, releasing strongly into Mr. White’s mouth.  The other man moved back a little.  Jesse shoved his cock hard against the roof of Mr. White’s mouth as a final wave hammered through him, feeling Mr. White gag slightly.  Jesse smiled faintly.

Mr. White sat back on his heels.  He was silent.

Jesse opened his eyes, looked down at Mr. White’s bald head.  Laid a hand on the warm, prickly scalp.  “You bald-headed fuck, ” he muttered.

Walt got to his feet.  He stood in front of Jesse, green eyes regarding him steadily.   Reached out a hand, caressed Jesse’s face.  Ran a thumb over his lips.

“I was ready to kill Tuco.”  Walt said quietly.  “I went in there prepared to blow him up, and myself along with him.  He saw it too.  That’s why he gave me the money.  He could see I was going to do it.”

Jesse looked back at him without speaking.

“If you'd died, I would have killed him.”  Walt said.

Jesse looked away.  Walt caught his chin.  “When I couldn’t reach you, I was in hell,”  he said.  “When I saw you unconscious in the hospital, I was in hell.” 

Jesse stared at him, his expression raw.  Walt bent forward, leaned his forehead against Jesse’s.  Felt the kid’s light breath.

“I'm so sorry you got hurt.”  Walt whispered.

Jesse looked down.  He didn’t say anything.  After a moment, he put a hand on Walt’s waist.


	5. Chapter 5

A week later.

Jesse was lying flat on his back, naked, on his bed.   The bandage that had wrapped his ribs was gone.  The mattress was bare, except for the bottom sheet.  Mr. White had removed the covers and pillows, which were placed in a neat pile in a corner of the room.   

Jesse’s arms were stretched out over his head, his wrists tied to the brass bars of the headrail with Mr. White’s wristband-plastic pull tab combination.     

Jesse was nervous.  Had said to Mr. White, while allowing the other man to tie him up, “Be careful.”

“Don’t worry Jesse, I'll be very careful with you.”  Mr. White had responded, kneeling on the bed, busy with the restraints.  ‘I know you’re still recovering.”  He pulled gently on one wrist, now securely fastened.  “How does this feel?”

“It’s okay.”

“Good.”  Mr. White backed up off the bed, got to his feet.   He stood looking down at his young partner for a moment.  Then he left the room.

“Hey!  Where- !”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back,” Mr. White called.  His footsteps descended the stairs.

Jesse stared up at the ceiling.  He pulled experimentally on the restraints. Nope, he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Mr. White had been surprisingly kind and considerate over the last week.  He'd come over daily to Jesse’s house.  Gone shopping for him, filled the fridge.  Jesse now had fresh fruit, vegetables, milk, eggs, cheese, steaks in the freezer.  Mr. White had done his laundry, tidied up.  The place was looking neat and clean.  He was cooking for Jesse too.  Fried chicken, omelettes.  Salad.  Jesse was eating better than he had in awhile.  It was a bit like having a mom around, except that mom was a bald, grouchy, bossy, meth cooking, money-obsessed killer with lung cancer.

He had driven Jesse to meet his contacts for the pseudo.  They'd cooked up what they could, which wasn’t much, not _near_ the two pounds promised Tuco.  Who they were meeting tomorrow.   Every time Jesse thought about this, he felt a little sick.  But Mr. White didn’t seem too worried.  He'd been in a pretty good mood all week.  For him.

Mr. White was back.  In his hands, an ice tray.

“What's that for?”  Jesse asked, alarmed.

Mr. White was smiling.  “You’ll see.”

He put the ice tray down on the nightstand.  Then he sat down on the bed beside Jesse, laid a hand on Jesse’s leg.  He was still smiling.

Jesse was struck by how happy Mr. White looked.  “Why are you enjoying this so much?”

“Enjoying what?”

“This.”  Jesse shook his wrists against the restraints.

“Oh.  Well, I like having you helpless.  It gives me a lot of satisfaction.”

Jesse had nothing to say to that.   He watched Mr. White, waiting.

Mr. White ran his hand up Jesse’s leg, placed it somewhat casually on Jesse’s cock.  Then he bent over and kissed Jesse there.   Moved up, kissed Jesse’s stomach and then further, gently tonguing both nipples.  Kissed his throat.  Sat back to observe Jesse’s reaction.  Replaced his hand on Jesse’s cock.

Jesse felt the familiar, weakening pleasure break over him, magnified by his defenceless position.   He shifted.  Mr. White shook his head at him.  “Don’t move around too much.  I don’t want you hurting yourself.”   Then he took Jesse’s cock strongly into his mouth, sucking.  In spite of himself, Jesse arched his back.  Mr. White sat up.  “What did I tell you?”

He reached over, picked up the ice tray and cracked it.  Took out an ice cube and held it in front of Jesse’s face.

Jesse’s eyes were on the ice cube.  “What—“

Mr. White popped it into Jesse’s mouth.  Jesse made a gargled sound, his eyes widening.  “Sh-sh,” Mr. White said.  “Don’t spit it out.  Just leave it there.”

Jesse subsided, glaring at the other man.

Mr. White shook out another ice cube.  Then he bent, reaching under Jesse’s bottom, and pushed the ice cube deep into the warm crevice between both cheeks. 

An outraged, mewling sound emerged from behind Jesse’s closed lips.  His eyes met Mr. White's.  He twisted on the bed.  Mr. White placed both hands flat on Jesse’s chest.  “Be still," he said firmly.  "Don’t open your mouth.”   Jesse closed his eyes.

Mr. White took out a third ice cube and laid it against Jesse’s nipple.  Circled it around, watching the flesh pebble under the icy, melting water.  Moved to the other nipple.  Jesse’s head was tossing, silently.   Keeping the ice cube on the one nipple, Mr. White put his mouth over the other, curling his tongue around the hardened point, then biting down gently.  Reversed the treatment to the other side.

Jesse was making muted sounds deep in his throat.  His hands were wrapped around the brass bars.

Mr. White bent and placed his mouth around the tip of Jesse’s rigid cock, rasping his tongue repeatedly over the glans.  His hand, cold and wet from the ice, caressed the shaft, cupped Jesse’s balls.

The ice cube had melted in Jesse’s mouth.  He swallowed water, coughing slightly.  Gasped, “Mr. White, please-“

Mr. White slapped his cock.  “I didn’t say you could talk.  Close your mouth.”

“But—“

“There are five more ice cubes in that tray.”

Jesse closed his mouth, turned his face away.

Walt put his mouth back over Jesse’s cock.  He moved his tongue and lips over it until it was shuddering, straining, droplets of clear liquid beading on the tip. 

Jesse was breathing heavily, his body motionless on the bed.   His eyes were closed.

Walt stood up, shed his own clothes.  Retrieved the tube of lubricant from the nightstand drawer.  Squeezed the liquid generously over Jesse’s cock, coating it, and then over his own, and his hands.  Jesse was watching him, wide eyed.  Walt smiled at him.  “I can’t do what I want with you because of your injury, so we’ll have to improvise.”

His hand went delicately to Jesse’s cock, stroking, fingers and thumb slick with the lubricant.  The kid rolled his head back, clearly forcing himself to keep silent.  Walt nodded in approval.  Then he climbed up on the bed, inserting himself between Jesse’s legs.  He leaned forward, putting his hands on either side of Jesse’s body, positioning his cock so that it rubbed strongly against Jesse’s.  Started moving his hips, sliding himself back and forth. 

In spite of his sharp pleasure Jesse was mortified, flushed red with humiliation.  He was stretched out, helpless, at the complete mercy of Mr. White, who was playing his body like an instrument, playing _with_ him like he was a toy.  He yanked futilely against the restraints.  The movement caused Mr. White to look up at him, the green eyes taking in his outraged expression.   Then Mr. White grinned, kissed Jesse briefly on the mouth, and bent his head downwards, to better observe the movement of their bodies against each other.

Jesse stared at the top of his partner’s bald head.  With his body curved over Jesse’s, the broad shoulders and brawny chest and arms, his muscles corded with exertion, Mr. White reminded him again of a large, predatory beast.  He was handling Jesse, not roughly, but with little regard, observing his response with an amiable curiosity.  Jesse was reminded of a wild bear he'd seen on television, investigating a partially submerged object in a mountain lake, batting it gently back and forth between its paws. 

He opened his mouth.  “Let me go.”

At this, Mr. White looked up, his expression no longer amused.   He held Jesse’s gaze for a moment.  Then his hand went abruptly back to Jesse’s cock.   He grasped it slickly, creating a warm cavern around it with his palm, and started moving his hips rapidly back and forth, increasing the pressure between their bodies.  A shimmering pleasure radiated out from the friction, spiraling irresistibly into Jesse’s cock.  Against his will, he was moaning, yanking his hands against the bars of the bed, his body pressing up against Mr. White’s.    

Walt raised his head, face strained, and covered Jesse’s mouth with his own.  He was bucking, heaving against Jesse, balanced on one arm, the muscles and veins popping.  He kept his other hand against Jesse’s cock, rubbing, forcing the kid’s response.  Finally he felt Jesse shudder in release and let himself come, heavily onto Jesse’s belly.

Walt collapsed beside Jesse, careful not to let his weight fall on the kid’s healing side.  He was breathing harshly, eyes closed.  After a moment, he felt Jesse move restlessly against the restraints.  “Mr. White, come on, can you let me go now?”

Walt sat up, looked down at his young partner.  Said quietly, “You're let go when _I_ say, and not before, you understand? Don’t ask me again.” He padded from the room.

Jesse shouted after him, his voice panicked.  “Mr. White!”

After a few minutes, Mr. White came back, a towel in his hand.  Jesse’s eyes were fixed on him, distressed.  He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated.  Mr. White cleaned him off methodically, not looking at him.  Only then did he cut the plastic ties.  Released, Jesse cradled his wrists against his chest, rubbing them.  He turned onto his side, curling his body away. 

Mr. White picked up the folded bedclothes and spread them over the bed, covering Jesse.  He picked up a pillow.  “Raise your head.”  Jesse turned a look on him, but said nothing.  Did as he was asked.  Mr. White tucked the pillow under Jesse’s head.  Jesse put his arms around it.  Closed his eyes.

Walt got himself dressed.  Tidied the room.  Regarded his partner’s silent shape, under the covers. 

“You don’t have to come with me to the meet tomorrow,” he said.

Jesse turned, looked at him.  “Are you worried about it?” 

Walt shrugged.  “Not really.”

Jesse raised himself on his elbows.  “Not really?  Why?”

“I have a pretty good idea of how it’s going to go.”

“Well _me too_ man, and I don’t think it’s going to go so well for us.”

“Well we’ll see.  As I said, you don’t have to be there.”

Jesse was staring at him, his expression angry.  “I’ll be there,” he said shortly.

“Jesse—“

“I’ll be there, okay?  God…”  He lay back down, drew the covers over his head.

Walt looked down at Jesse a moment longer, his expression thoughtful.  Then he smiled slightly.  Left the room without speaking again, closing the door behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

It was the evening after the drug meet.   Mr. White and Jesse had survived a second business transaction with Tuco without additional assault and bodily harm.  This week.

They were in Jesse’s kitchen, Mr. White sitting on a stool at the kitchen table, scribbling intently on a pad of paper.  Jesse was pacing around.  Yelling at him. 

“Four pounds.  Four pounds!  As if _two pounds_ wasn’t bad enough!”  Jesse was having trouble processing the _depths of stupidity_ that his partner was capable of.   Mr. White had managed to put the two of them in debt to that…psycho fucking maniac…for _seventy thousand dollars_ (including weekly interest), and then, on top of that, had promised Tuco _four pounds_ of meth…in one week’s time.  No less.

Jesse sank down across from Mr. White in despair.  “We’re talking _two… three hundred_ boxes of sinus pills.”  His voice was leaden.  “There ain’t that many smurfs in the world.” 

Mr. White didn’t look up.  “We’re not going to need pseudoephedrine,” he answered, scribbling busily.  “We’re going to make phenylacetone in a tube furnace, and then we’re going to use reductive amination to yield methamphetamine, four pounds.”  He absently held four fingers up to illustrate. 

Jesse stared at him.  “So…no pseudo?’

Mr. White kept writing.  “No pseudo.”

Hope dawned in Jesse’s eyes.  He broke out in a smile.  “So you _do_ have a plan...”  Walt, focused on his list, didn’t look up.   Jesse slapped the table top in celebration.  Shouted jubilantly, “Yeah Mr. White!“   Pointed at the paper in Walt’s hand.  “Yes, _science_!”

“Okay.”  Walt ripped the top sheet off the pad of paper and handed it to Jesse in a businesslike manner.   His eyes were tired.  He rubbed them behind his glasses. 

Jesse frowned at the unfamiliar words.  “What’s this?”

 “ _That_ is a shopping list.”  Walt glanced at Jesse, tapping his fingers rather apprehensively on the table.   Said deprecatingly, “Getting _some_ of those items may be challenging...”

Jesse was reading, stumblingly.  “One auto…transformer, 6 litres an…Hy…hydrous methylamine…”

Walt nodded encouragingly, silently mouthing the words as Jesse read them out.

Jesse continued.  “…two…35 m and m tube furnaces…”

Walt interrupted.  “That’s M-M.  Milimetre.  _One_ 70 milimetre would be fine, but they’re hard to come by, so…”  He shrugged.

Jesse continued.  “Forty grams thor…ium nitrate…”  Jesse gave up.  “Yo, Mr. White I can’t even _pronounce_ half this shit!”    He got to his feet in frustration, shoved the list back under Walt’s nose.  Began walking away from him.  “Nah.  You know what?  Count me out!   I’m leaving town.  I’m moving to like, _Oregon_ , or something…”

Walt got up hurriedly, grasped his young partner’s arms.  “Jesse, Jesse, listen to me…”  Put his hands on Jesse’s shoulders and turned the kid to face him.  Backed him up against a wall, blocking him from leaving.  Jesse looked back at him, upset. 

“Today is the _first day_ of the _rest_ of your life!”  Walt pronounced.  His eyes were wide, sincere.

Jesse stared at him suspiciously.  Slanted a glance at Walt's hand on his shoulder.  “What are you doing?”

Walt repeated.  “This is the first day of the rest of your life!”   He released his grip on Jesse and cupped both hands in front of him like they were holding something precious.  Asked.  “But what kind of life will it be?”  Curled his hands into illustrative fists. “…Will it be a life of _fear_ , of ` _Oh, no, no, no, I can’t do this_ …’ of _never once_ believing in yourself?”  He gripped Jesse’s shoulders again, shook them gently.  Stared at Jesse attentively.

Jesse looked down, unconvinced.  His shoulders slumped.  “I don’t _know_!”  He replied in a loud voice, frustrated.

“Listen—“  Walt picked up the list.  Waved it in front of Jesse’s unhappy face.  “These things?  We need them.”  He folded the list, stuffed it in Jesse’s shirt pocket.    “And only _you_ …can get them for us.”  Walt bent his head close to his partner, holding Jesse’s eyes.   Raised his eyebrows. 

Jesse sighed, turned his face away.   “Mr. White-“

Walt’s hands went to his arms again.  “Jesse, please.  Trust me.”

Jesse shot Walt a glance.  “Trust you.” 

“Yes!  I got us this far –“

Jesse looked at him unbelievingly.  Laughed.  “You’re seriously thinking that’s a _good thing_?”

Walt ignored this.  “—and now, all I’m asking is that you have a little faith.  Faith in me, faith in yourself, faith in this _process._   In the _science,_ Jesse, right?"

“Science.”

“Yes.  I’ve watched you in the lab, Jesse.  You’re _good._   With your skills, my expertise, this product, it’s going to blow everyone out of the water!   It’s going to _get us there_ Jesse.”   Walt’s face took on a dreamy expression, his mind wandering through fields of money.   He looked back at his partner.  “Jesse, we are on the ground floor of something tremendous.   And I _need you_ in order to accomplish this.  I can’t do this without you.”  He was quiet, expectant.

Jesse’s expression remained dubious.  He didn’t meet Walt’s eyes.

Walt took a deep breath.  Released Jesse’s arms.  Stood in front of the younger man, his gaze steady.

“Jesse, I remember you from my class.”

Jesse’s eyes moved to his.  “So?”

“I remember you, your…ridiculous behaviour…and I remember thinking, this boy, this boy doesn’t know himself yet."

Jesse watched him, silent.

“I remember thinking…this boy…he acts the way he does, because he is _lost_.  He is lost to himself.  He doesn’t know what he is, what he can do, how things could be, for him.”

Jesse looked at him, distressed.

Walt continued, holding his gaze.  “And to be honest, Jesse, I regretted you.  I tried to get through to you at the time, but I couldn’t.  And I didn’t try past what I felt could reasonably be expected of me, as a conscientious teacher.   I gave you up.  Let you go your own way, whatever that was.  You can’t care about everyone.”

Jesse stood, unmoving.  He was listening.

Walt put his hands gently on his partner’s shoulders.  “But don’t you see, Jesse, what has happened here?  I’ve _found you_.  I _see you_.  I see _who you are.”_   He smiled.

Jesse’s eyes were bleak.  “Then… _who am I_?”  His voice was a whisper.

Walt stopped smiling. He slowly leaned close.  Jesse’s face was turned up to his, waiting.

“You are _important._ ”  Walt said, very quietly.  “And you are brave.”

Jesse kept looking at him.

Walt hesitated, then kissed Jesse’s lips. Kissed his forehead. “You're beautiful,” he whispered. Kissed Jesse’s mouth again. “And you…have more power than you know.” He felt Jesse’s breath, lightly brushing him. That was true, Walt realized. The kid held a lot of power over him. His grip tightened. 

Jesse had closed his eyes, frowning.  He lowered his face.  Mr. White put his hands gently under his jaw and turned his face back up. Kissed him again, more intensely this time. And again, his tongue entering Jesse’s mouth. Jesse didn't move. Mr. White leaned into him, pressing him against the wall.  Started kissing him strongly. Despite himself, Jesse felt a wave of warm pleasure run through his body. He felt himself submit, reluctantly. Opened his mouth. His hands went to Mr. White’s sides.

Mr. White stepped back.  He flattened his hands on the wall, on either side of Jesse’s head.  His green stare was fixed.  “I need to know you’re on board,” he said.  Jesse gazed at him unspeaking.  Mr. White’s voice rose.  “Jesse.  I need to know you’re _on board_.  Can I count on you?”

“I’m on board.”  Jesse said.

Mr. White’s expression didn’t change.  “What does _that mean_ to you?”

“I’m not leaving.  I’ll get your stuff.  I’ll help you make your product.”

Walt let out a breath.  He didn’t move, his eyes still intent.  Jesse observed him, silently.   Then he reached out and plucked Walt’s glasses off his nose.  Folded and tucked them into the pocket of his shirt.  Smiled slightly at him.  “These are always getting in the way.”

Walt felt his expression lightening.  Suddenly he grinned.   Jesse smiling at him was like the sun coming out.  He snatched off Jesse’s knit hat and tossed it down.  “This gets in the way too,” he said.  Ran his hands hungrily through Jesse’s soft blonde hair. Jesse was leaning back against the wall, his face tilted up.  Walt put his hands under Jesse’s loose vest and shirt, stroking his warm sides.  “So do these,”  he said abruptly.  He yanked the clothes over Jesse’s head, then laid his hands again on the kid’s bared, slim body.  Ran his thumbs roughly over Jesse’s nipples, heard his intake of breath.  He put his face against Jesse’s throat, kissed him. Felt the kid’s pulse under his lips.

Jesse had put his hands back on Walt’s waist. As Walt kissed his throat, Jesse tilted his head, his face resting against Walt’s shaven scalp. He rubbed his cheek against Walt delicately. Walt felt the movement, looked up. Jesse's blue eyes were observing him gravely. Walt looked back at Jesse for a moment. Then began kissing him again. He felt Jesse’s mouth open sweetly under his. Jesse’s tongue touched his then started to gently explore Walt’s mouth. Walt pressed himself against his partner, kissing the finely drawn lips over and over, delighting in them. Jesse was kissing him back, his mouth searching for Walt’s, teasingly at first, playful, and then intently, sparring with him.

Kissing Jesse was like no other experience in Walt’s life. The feel of the younger man in his arms, under his mouth, fluffy hair tickling his nose, kitten tongue like rough silk, the soft sounds he made in his pleasure. His warm, sandpaper throat. Kissing him was like entering a secret room, apart from the world, a room without light or sound. A room containing nothing but this marvellous being, yielding, waiting for him.

Walt broke away from Jesse's mouth, began kissing his cheeks, eyelids, jaw, nuzzling under his ear. Jesse lifted his chin, turned his head, his mouth finding Walt’s again, his tongue slipping between Walt's lips. Walt felt a shock of pleasure as Jesse shifted his body to press fully against him, seeking contact. He pressed the hard bulge of his cock against Walt.

Walt stepped back.

He turned Jesse towards the wall.  “Brace yourself.” Jesse's arms slowly went up.  Walt pushed him gently forward.  “I want to take you here,” he said roughly.  Shaking slightly, he caressed Jesse's back, running his hands over the satiny skin. Then grasped Jesse’s pants, dragging them down.  He put his hands on Jesse’s warm bare hips, his bottom.

Jesse was breathing rapidly, but otherwise still.  Walt reached between his legs, stroked his cock.  “Spread your legs,” he whispered.  His hands went to his own pants, undoing them.  “Wider.”  Jesse shifted his legs further apart.  Walt spat on his hands, rubbed them over his own cock.  “Tilt up,” he said, grasping Jesse’s bottom.  “That’s it.” He positioned his cock against Jesse, then slowly pushed inside.

Jesse was twisting, protesting.  “ _Ouch_ , Mr. White, _Jesus_ … “   

“Sh-sh.  I’m trying not to hurt you.  _Stay still_.”  Walt felt the tight, puckered flesh yielding.  He clamped both hands firmly on Jesse’s hips and continued pushing in.

Jesse was gasping, lean muscles tense.  Walt felt himself enter Jesse fully.  He let go of the younger man’s hips and leaned his own hands against the wall.  Moved his hips against Jesse, carefully at first and then more strongly.

Pressed against his partner, acutely aware of the lithe, slender muscled body beneath him, Walt knew immediately when Jesse’s discomfort turned to something else.  He felt the tight internal muscles soften.  Jesse shifted against the wall, his bottom pressing back against Walt.  His breath began to shudder in his throat.

Walt started moving inside Jesse with smooth, deliberate strokes, dropping his head onto Jesse’s straining shoulders.  They were both panting with exertion, perspiring.  There was a fine sheen on Jesse’s skin.  Walt began thrusting his hips strongly, bucking into Jesse, bringing him up onto his toes.  Jesse was moaning.  Walt reached around and grasped Jesse’s cock, folding fingers and thumb over the satiny glans.  Jesse gasped, pushing his cock into Walt’s palm.  Walt felt his orgasm start to surge, electric, and pressed himself hard into his partner, his face dropping into the curve of Jesse’s neck, his fingers and thumb rubbing, tightening.  He felt Jesse’s cock jerk against his palm as he came, his throaty low voice crying out.

Jesse was bent over, his hands pressed flat against the wall.  Mr. White leaned heavily against him, a warm, solid weight.  His chest was rising and falling against Jesse’s back.  Jesse felt his partner softening inside him.  Warm fluid dripped down his legs.

“You didn’t use a condom.”

Mr. White pulled out of him, arranging his clothes.  “I’m sorry.”  He turned to the kitchen counter, tore off and folded a wad of paper towel, and pressed it between Jesse’s legs.  Jesse closed his eyes.

Mr. White bent, pulled up Jesse’s pants and re-fastened them.  Jesse stayed against the wall, silent, his eyes tightly shut.

Mr. White dropped a kiss tentatively onto Jesse’s shoulder, then turned him gently around.  Jesse's head dropped back.  He opened his eyes.  Mr. White’s face was close to his, the green eyes regarding him thoughtfully.  

Jesse gazed at his former teacher’s harsh features -the sharply angled cheekbones and brows, the roughly chiselled jaw.  The severely elegant shape of the shaven head.  The hard mouth.  The cold eyes, often half-lidded with a weary, reserved expression, but sometimes piercing, sharp, focused on him like lasers.   

Jesse felt his lips tremble.  He pressed them together.  “I don’t feel powerful,” he said to Mr. White quietly.  “Why did you say that to me?”

Mr. White's expression was unreadable.  Then he replied, “You might not feel powerful, but you are.  That’s all you need to know.”   After a moment, he put his arms around Jesse.  Put his face against Jesse's neck.  “I’ll be back on Friday afternoon.  We’ll cook over the weekend.  Make sure you have everything on that list before then.”  Stepped back, put both hands on Jesse’s shoulders a final time.  Gave him a slight shake.  “Okay?”

Jesse’s lips barely moved.  “Yeah.” 

Mr. White nodded, turned away.  Put on his glasses.  “I’ll see you.”  Started to leave, and then suddenly turned back and pressed a hard kiss on Jesse's mouth.  Traced the seam of Jesse’s closed lips with his tongue.  Stroked his cheek, his throat.  Kissed Jesse again and held him for another moment. “Goodbye.”

Left alone, Jesse picked up his discarded clothing.  He was cold in the chill air of the kitchen.  He shrugged his shirt and vest back over his head. 


	7. Chapter 7

Friday afternoon.

Jesse was toiling in his garage, organizing the smorgasbord of highly specific, cumbersome, delicate, obscure, pricey and overall bitch-to-buy items in support of Mr. White’s “I’m going to revolutionize the meth world” designer crystal. 

He was pretty happy with himself, truth be told.  Tracking down and buying these supplies had been very hard work.  The research, the technical lingo, the unfamiliar kinds of _people_ he had had to deal with to buy this crap (a lot of eggheads like Mr. White…okay, maybe they weren’t so unfamiliar), anyway, it had been a stretch.  But he had managed.  Quite well, overall, thank you very much.  Except for the methylamine.  But they could talk about that.  Between the two of them he fairly confident they could work something out.  After Mr. White got his obligatory grouchy two cents in, of course.  But after these last few days, Jesse felt up to dealing with him.

Speaking of which…

Mr. White pulled into Jesse’s driveway, punctual as usual.  Strolled through the open garage door, carrying a small suitcase.  He was casually dressed in jeans, a dark plaid shirt and black windbreaker, looking…kind of cool actually, his drab, nutty professor wardrobe seemingly gone the way of his hair. 

He stopped, silhouetted in the entrance against the fading afternoon light.  Surveyed the results of Jesse’s work. 

Jesse gestured to the suitcase.  “So what was your excuse?”

“Sweatlodge.”

“Sweatlodge?”

“Yeah.”  Mr. White didn’t say anything else.  Kept looking at the stock of supplies, no doubt comparing it to the mental list in his shiny bald head.

Jesse glanced at him.  Considering how much Mr. White had been on his mind lately, and the _ways_ he had been _(remembering it all)_ thinking about Mr. White (God, those thoughts _never_ to be shared, _ever_ ), it was surprising how comfortable he felt with the man.  He wasn’t sure what that said about himself.  Probably nothing good.   In any case, Mr. White was in work mode, his gaze towards Jesse strictly business, impersonal.  The man had an incredible on-off switch.  The psycho.

Jesse bent over a heavy metal canister, shifting it gingerly.  “I’m already sweating.  Help me out.”

Mr. White came over, grasped the canister’s other side.   Between them, they maneuvered it to stand with the rest. 

Mr. White straightened, patted the nearby tube furnace.  “Seventy millimeter tube furnace.  Excellent,” he said.  “This is excellent.  Very good work.”

Jesse acknowledged the compliment, nodding slightly.  “Damn straight.”

Mr. White continued his observations, one hand on the canister.  “Okay.  Hydrogen.  Electrolytically produced, yes?”

“Yeah, like you asked,” Jesse responded.    Gestured to the array of boxes, canisters and bottles, spread out before them.  “I mean, this crap wasn’t easy to get.”  Started working up to the methylamine situation.  “And it was expensive…”

Mr. White was already there.  “Methylamine.   Where’s the methylamine?”  Peering down.  “I don’t see the methylamine.”

Jesse grimaced.  “Yeah, well, that’s where I ran into some trouble.”

Mr. White looked at him.  “What kind of trouble?”

Jesse explained.  “Well half this crap, I could just buy, right?  But this meth…lyamine, not so easy.  They got it locked down tight.” 

Mr. White was silent, nodding thoughtfully.

Jesse continued.  “But I did find some pros who will rip it off for us.  But they want ten grand.”

Mr. White put his hands in his pockets.  Glanced at Jesse again.  “So what’s the problem?  You have the money.”

“No, _had_ ,” Jesse said.  “I already spent almost the whole wad.  I mean I got like, two grand left.  I told you, all this crap was expensive.” 

Mr. White frowned.  After a moment, asked, “So these…thieves, did they say where they would be stealing it from?”

Jesse nodded, “Yeah, a chemical supply place south of town.”   Explained the rest of the problem.  “They got guards and security cameras, big ass steel doors…That’s why these dudes are charging so much.”

Mr. White wasn’t listening.  He stared over Jesse’s shoulder, eyes squinting in the dim light.

Jesse paused.  “What?”

Mr. White brushed past him without speaking.  Stopped in front of a milk carton filled with forgotten, dusty toys.  Reached out and pulled up Jesse’s old Etch-A-Sketch, which was barely visible behind a partially deflated basketball.  Grasped it by the handles.  Shook it, listening to the granules rattle inside the toy’s plastic casing.  Turned back to Jesse, his eyes crinkling at the corners.  “So why don’t we…just steal it ourselves?”

Jesse laughed.   “Yeah?”  A joke from Mr. White, wow.  He’d been expecting worse.  “How’re we going to do that?”

Mr. White raised his eyebrows.  Handed the Etch-A-Sketch to Jesse.   Smiled at him.  “With this.”

Jesse took the toy.   It didn’t look like much.

“O… _kay_ …” he started.

Mr. White walked briskly past him towards his car. 

“Hey –where’re you going?”  Jesse called after him.

“I’m going to the mall,” Mr. White said over his shoulder.  “I want to get to Toy’r’Us before they close.  Oh-”  Paused and turned back to Jesse. “Do you have any ski masks in the house?”

Jesse looked at him.  “Ski masks.  Plural.  Uh, no.  Can’t say I do.”

Mr. White nodded, turned back towards his car.  “I’ll be back soon.  I suggest you rest up.  We’re getting the methylamine tonight.”  He got into his car.  Drove off.

Jesse stared after him.  He shook his head.  He seemed to do that a lot around Mr. White.  He sighed, rolled his eyes.  Shook his head again, at himself this time.  Lately, he’d been doing a lot of that too.

***

The sun was down. 

Jesse and Walt were standing at the table in Jesse’s kitchen.  Walt was using a small, battery operated screw driver to open the last of a pile of disassembled Etch-A-Sketches, dumping the small grey granules contained inside each toy into a white plastic mixing bowl.   Jesse watched him, fascinated.

“So what’s this stuff called again?”  Jesse asked.

“Thermite.”

“And that will cut through a lock?  Because this is supposed to be one _big ass_ lock.”

Walt poured the contents of a plastic cup, a second, obscure powder, into the mixing bowl.  Said conversationally, “In World War 2, the Germans had an artillery piece…”  Looked up at Jesse.  “…it was the biggest in the world, called the Gustav Gun, and it weighed a _thousand tons_.  And the Gustav was capable of firing a _seven ton_ shell, and hitting a target, accurately, twenty three miles away.”  Laughed.  “I mean, you could drop bombs on it every day for a month without ever disabling it!” 

Walt picked up the mixing bowl and started carefully tipping its contents into a small plastic ziplock bag.  Continued.  “But, you drop a _commando_ , one man, with just a bag of this…and he could melt right through four inches of solid steel and destroy that gun forever.”  Walt sealed up the ziplock bag, looking at Jesse again.  Shook the bag briskly beside his ear like a castanet, and tossed it casually in Jesse’s direction. 

Jesse grabbed for it like he was catching a grenade.  “Jeez!”   Glared at his partner.

Walt was laughing. 

Annoyed, Jesse tossed the bag back at him.  Walt caught it one handed, juggled it up and down briefly and put it back on the table.  Looked back at Jesse.  “So yes,” he said lightly.  “I think it will cut through any lock we’re likely to find.”  Picked up a roll of silver duct tape and ripped off a piece with his teeth, smiling.

Jesse watched his partner as he proceeded to wrap the duct tape around the powder-filled plastic bag.   It was like he’d stepped into an episode of MacGyver.  “I don’t know man.  All I can say is I hope you’re right.”

Walt continued smiling.  He was in an incredibly good mood for some reason, enjoying himself more than he had in a long time.   It was the remembered happiness of matching his wits against a problem -mastering a situation with his ingenuity and nothing else.  Having Jesse watching him raptly, hanging on his words, didn’t hurt either.  “I’m right.  You’ll see.”

***

The theft was successfully completed.  As promised, the thermite had worked like a charm, and the large barrel of methylamine, so much more than they had counted on, was safely stored in the RV.  It was very late.

Jesse and Mr. White were back in Jesse’s kitchen.  Mr. White poured them both generous glasses of Crown Royal.  Handed a glass to Jesse.  “Here.  Cheers.”  Tapped his glass against Jesse’s and drained it in one gulp.

Jesse eyed the emptied glass.   “Uh…cheers.”  He drained his own glass. 

Mr. White filled both glasses again.  “So we’ll get out as soon as possible tomorrow.  Cook up.  Barring any unforeseen difficulties we should be able to finish the whole batch.  We’ve got Sunday as an extra day in case we need it.  I don’t have to be back until Sunday evening.”

“What’ll we do if we don’t have to cook?”

Mr. White glanced at him, smiling.  “I don’t know, I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

Jesse was regretting _that_ stupid question.   Took a large, compensatory swallow of the whiskey.  Mr. White put a hand around Jesse’s glass.  “No more.  I’ve changed my mind.  I want you sharp for tomorrow.”

Jesse wrenched the glass away.  Downed the rest of the whiskey before Mr. White could prevent him.  “Seriously dude, don’t treat me like a kid.”

Mr. White was still smiling, but his gaze had narrowed.  He plucked the glass out of Jesse’s hand, set it firmly down.  Grabbed Jesse’s wrist.  “But you _are_ a kid.”

Jesse tried to twist out of Mr. White’s grip.  “Let _go_ , man—“  Mr. White grabbed his other wrist.  Pulled Jesse towards him.  “You _are_ a kid,” he repeated.   His expression had lightened again, amused.  “A _bad_ kid, in need of some _guidance.”_ He was wrestling Jesse into his arms, laughing.  “You need someone to set you _straight...”_

Jesse struggled, but half-heartedly.  Somehow seeing Mr. White in such a good mood (I mean, how often did _that_ happen?) did away with most of his annoyance.  Most of it.  He let Mr. White pull him close.  Putting his arms around the other man’s waist, he looked up.  “And you’re _such_ the right person to do it,” he said.  “A meth cooking _double murderer_.”  

The amusement faded from Mr. White’s gaze.  “You don’t forget that, do you?” he said quietly.

Jesse shook his head.  Mr. White regarded him thoughtfully.  Then his grip on Jesse tightened again.  “I think…I’m the _only_ person to do it,” he said.  “Who else but me would take you on?”  He bent and kissed Jesse’s mouth.

After a moment, Walt felt Jesse’s lips part, allowing him access.  The kid’s arms were still looped around him, and he was leaning slightly into Walt’s chest.  Walt broke off the kiss.  “Come on,” he said, turning Jesse towards the stairs.  “Upstairs.  I’m too tired for any athletics tonight.  We need a bed.  Let’s go.”  He put a hand on Jesse’s waist, pushing his partner ahead of him.

***

Jesse lay on his side, a quilt partially covering his naked body.  He had turned away from Walt, who was lying face up, stretched out, one hand on his stomach, the other resting lightly against the small of Jesse’s back.  Walt was dozing, nearly asleep, mildly aware of his partner beside him, the slim shoulders, the soft rise and fall of Jesse’s breath.

Walt was thinking about his wife, who would be sleeping right now, alone in their bed.  How often she and he had lain together like this, after sex.  He rubbed the back of his hand meditatively against Jesse’s warm skin.  How different the two of them felt.  Skyler was soft like the creamiest silk satin.  She smelled like her favourite lotion, rose and lavender.  After sixteen years, her body was completely known to him, a well loved book, read again and again for the repeated joy of the familiar words.   And now her pregnancy, the awesome round temple of her belly.

Jesse, on the other hand, was a revelation.  Just being around him was startling to Walt’s senses.  He often smelled sharp, rather acrid, a combination of cigarettes, pot and unfortunately, meth.  But underneath, there was his young man’s healthy, salty smell, the natural vitality of his body, not yet conquered by his lifestyle.  Walt found himself putting his nose against Jesse and breathing him in, seeking that smell beneath the overlay of drugs and smoke.  And the feel of him, as sleek as a cat.  The smooth satin of his skin reminding Walt of some high performance fabric, expertly designed, like the sheer, taut cloth of a windsail.   

Walt thought about the piercing, sharp enjoyment he received from Jesse’s body.  There was something about Jesse that invited extremity -pushed the outer limits of behaviour and touch.  Watching his blue eyes when he was overcome by pleasure or wincing with pain at Walt’s hands. Seeing him flush red with humiliation.  Or rise up furious, blazing.  It was exquisite, addictive.  It was like ascending into an atmosphere of pure, rarified air.

But there was also the raw tenderness.  Jesse’s eyes wide open, as vulnerable as a child’s. 

Walt’s hand stilled against Jesse’s back.  Then he heard his partner’s voice, turned away from him.  “You’re not rushing off.”

“What?”

“Mostly you rush off.”

“Yes, I guess you’re right.  I don’t need to, for once.”

Jesse said nothing.  But Walt felt a change in the atmosphere of the room.  He glanced at Jesse's silent back.

“Hey.  What is it?”

“Nothing.”

Walt turned and embraced Jesse from behind.  Curled around his partner’s body and buried his face in Jesse’s downy hair.  He felt Jesse's slow, deliberate breaths, his chest rising and falling evenly.  Walt kissed the back of his neck.  Jesse was quiet.  Walt relaxed against the younger man's warmth.  He started to doze, again.


	8. Chapter 8

Jesse gradually came awake, conscious of a heavy, warm weight leaning on him.  The weight clarified into Mr. White. 

His partner lay on his stomach, his head buried against Jesse’s throat.  His warm, solid body was pressed against the length of Jesse’s side, a thigh resting under Jesse’s legs.  A heavy arm was thrown across Jesse’s chest.  He was deeply asleep, muscles relaxed, breath wheezing (fairly loudly) through his nose.  Jesse felt the prickly skin of Mr. White’s scalp rasp against his skin, as well as the bristly touch of his moustache and unshaven jaw.  A broad furry chest was rising and falling against him.  The thigh lying under his legs was fuzzy and warm.  It was a bit like waking snuggled up with a bear.  He opened his eyes.

Sun shone brightly outside the heavily covered windows.  Inside, the room was warm and dim.

Jesse lay quietly, looking up at the ceiling.  Mr. White continued breathing on him.

Jesse thought about waking up in bed with someone beside him.  It hadn’t happened that often.  And never, Christ Jesus, with a _man._   And if (which he never would) he _had_ pictured himself waking up with a man, it would never, ever have been with someone like _Mr. White._

I mean, seriously, right? 

Jesse’s eyes drifted closed.  His mind went to the memory of the first time he smoked. 

Eleven years old.  He and Emilio had stolen a pack of cigarettes belonging to Emilio’s dad.  They ran off to the nearby park, hooting, and, sitting on top of a suitably isolated picnic table, lit up.  The flare click of the lighter.  The hot gust of smoke, tightening his mouth, searing his lungs.  The thin, clean bite of the nicotine, entering his brain like a razor blade.  Everything brightening, in tighter focus, the leaves of the tree they were sitting under standing out suddenly, outlined in pen.  It had been awesome. 

And then the first time he had smoked meth.  A party in his junior year, the same year he’d been in Mr. White’s class, funny to think of that.  Jesse sprawled on a couch, an older girl beside him.  Handing him the glass pipe, clear liquid bubbling.  The hit, blue-white behind his eyes, exploding like shrapnel through his body, a firecracker in his brain lighting up.  The girl’s face, behind the smoke, dark eyes blank as coins.  Fucking her later in a messy room, sounds of the party below.

Jesse thought about that girl for a moment longer.  What was her name?  He couldn’t remember.  In the subsequent years there had been many girls like that, and sex fuelled by the drug or by booze, the act itself almost inadvertent.  Girls trading sex for the drug –as a dealer, he’d had his share.  One of the perks of the job actually. 

Jesse's mind continued to drift.

Older types.  He’d had sex with a few older women.  Clients.  Prostitutes.   Once memorably with the mother of a girl he knew from highschool.  Met the mother _because_ he was having sex with the girl (but never did the two of them together of course).  Having older (sometimes _way_ older) people attracted to him, coming on to him, was not news, thank you, Mr. White.  And yes, that included men too.  One of the facts of a pretty face.  He’d always given those pervs the brush off. 

Saviours. Plenty of those too, over the years, starting with the original template, his parents.  Urging him to get straight, do right, _maximize his potential._   Teachers.  _Concerned adults._   Mr. White not the only one who'd made saving Jesse Pinkman a project. 

And girls.  Lots of girls.  A whole garden of girls his own age.  Good girls falling for the bad boy.  Or those seasoned fellow travellers encountered on the night road of parties, drugs, booze, drugs, parties, drugs.  A dark road, lit only by headlights and never visible more than a few feet ahead. So you didn’t know you were going in circles. 

So what had brought him here, to this dim room, to Mr. White?  Nothing that he could recollect from his experience. 

Jesse remembered the first time Mr. White laid hands on him, in the RV.  Had shaken him pretty hard, slapped him.  The man did _not_ respect the concept of personal space.  A definite sign of problems ahead.  But it had been that moment, that precise moment, that Jesse had…stayed.   He had stayed, fascinated, waiting to see what would happen next. 

Pinned by the hurtful hands Mr. White laid on him.

Jesse thought about this.  He knew something about himself now, something had come clear.  There was a hook inside him, deep inside his core.  And that hook was attached to multiple threads, light and thin but strong as fishing line.   And those threads were spread through his body, resident in every organ, attached to his cock, curling through his brain.  And Mr. White had reached into him, wrapped his fingers around that hook, and pulled it. 

And with every painful touch, every humiliation, every scathing word that Mr. White used to scrape him raw, that hook was pulled tighter.  

Jesse opened his eyes again.  Mr. White was awake.

He shifted against Jesse, jostling him.  Jesse felt Mr. White’s eyelids blink against his skin. Then he nuzzled his face into the curve of Jesse’s neck.

“What time is it?”  His voice a gravelly rumble.

“I don’t know.  I think it’s late.”

“Damn.”  Mr. White sat up, the covers pooling around his waist.  He turned to stare down at Jesse.  With his broad shoulders, muscular, hairy torso and bald head, Mr. White looked rather alarming.  It _was_ sort of like lying next to a bear.   Mr. White’s green eyes were narrow.

“Get up.  We have to get going.  It’s going to take us awhile to set up and we still have to get out there.  I want to make sure that if there are any problems, we figure them out today.  I _wish_ you had an alarm clock.”

“Alarm clock.  Yeah, sorry man, I should have thought ahead.”

“Funny.  Come on, get up.”  Mr. White disentangled the rest of himself from Jesse and swung his legs over the side of the bed.   He groped around for his glasses, put them on.  “Where’s my bag?  Oh yes, downstairs…”   He padded naked from the room.

Jesse glowered after him.  Then flung the covers off, got up.  Hunted around for some clothes.  Mr. White was very skilled at making Jesse feel like killing him.  It was a genuine talent.

***

The RV was dead.  Only way it was going to make it out of Jesse’s driveway was via a tow truck.  A problem for another day.  Looks like they were cooking at Jesse’s house.  Something he said he’d never do.  But what was another bad decision at this point?

***

The heavy barrel of methylamine clattered down the basement stairs.  Walt hurried after it, yelling at Jesse.   

“What part of _slow it down_ did you not understand!”

Jesse was right behind him.  “You talk too much.  It’s _heavy_ man!  You’ve got to wait for me.”    

Together they wrestled the barrel over to the middle of the room.

Walt straightened.  “Your real estate agent, when is she supposed to come back?”

Jesse stared at him.  “Oh shit!  Yo…I don’t know.”  Pulled out his cellphone.   “I’ll make damn sure she doesn’t!”  Punched in the number, heard it ringing.  “Good call, yo.”

Walt was busy setting up the equipment.  Nodded without looking at him.

***

A viscous blue liquid was dripping slowly into the boiling flask through a looping clear plastic tube.  Walt and Jesse sat at their makeshift laboratory counter -bottles, flasks and the tube furnace arranged on a couple of old tables.  They were both wearing gas masks, black rubber lab aprons, their hands clad in green rubber gloves.  Walt was in his white lab jumpsuit.   Toxic white steam curled upwards from a second flask on the table.

Walt was explaining the new process to Jesse.  “Keep the temperature steady at 425 degrees.  We’ll need to run it two more hours to have enough to make four and a half pounds.”

“Four and a half?”  Jesse asked.  “Not four?”

“Two pounds pays Tuco back.”  Walt said.  Glanced at Jesse.  “Four and a half pounds puts us _forty-four_ _thousand_ dollars ahead…each.”

Jesse’s blue eyes shone brightly over the gas mask.  “Right _on_ man!”  He nodded, slapped a fist into an open palm.  “ _Right on.”_

Walt continued.  “With the amount of methylamine we got last night, we could make four and a half pounds a week for… well…”  Walt’s eyes moved away.  “…for the foreseeable future.”

Jesse glanced at his partner.  “How long is that going to be?”  Walt’s eyes turned towards him.  “I mean, in your…situation.”  Walt was quiet.  “How much cash do you need?”  Jesse asked.

Walt gazed blankly into the dim space in front of him.  He shook his head slightly.  “More.”  His voice was heavy.

Jesse looked at him, the cheerful light fading from his eyes.  He nodded slightly without saying anything further.  Glanced away.  Suddenly gasped, jumped up.

“Someone’s in my yard!”

“Sh-sh!”  They were on their feet.  Walt flapped a hand at Jesse to quiet him.  They stared towards the basement windows.  Legs and feet were trudging by outside.   Voices.  Then steps overhead.

Walt raised his gas mask, tiptoed up the stairs.  Cracked open the basement door and stared into the startled face of a small girl.  Holding her gaze, he held a finger to his lips.  Then closed the door quietly and tiptoed back down.  Replacing the gas mask, he stalked over to his partner.  Halted in front of him.

Asked sarcastically.  “Was there, by any chance, scheduled for this afternoon, an _open house_?”

Jesse groaned.  “I left her a message man.  It’s not my fault!”

Walt was furious.  “I don’t care _how_ you do it, just keep them out of here!  Do you understand me?”

Jesse hurried past him towards the stairs, pulling off his mask and apron.  “Yeah.”

“Then go!”  Walt turned back to the steaming, bubbling flasks.

Time passed.

Jesse was perched at the top of the stairs, guarding the basement door.  Walt, mind detached from the potential nuclear scope disaster above his head, stood at the laboratory table, pouring a red powder carefully into a beaker.

The door opened inwards.  Jesse closed it with a bang. 

A knock, a man’s voice on the other side.  “Excuse me, I’d just like to see the basement.”

“Yeah, well it’s occupied.”  Jesse answered.

The man called back.  “It’s not a bathroom!”  He started to open the door again.  Jesse slammed it shut.  “Hey!” the man said.  “I just want to see the basement.  What’s the big deal?”

Jesse barged through the door, closing it firmly behind him.  He advanced, glaring, at the would-be home buyer.  “Yo, you _ain’t seeing_ the basement, bitch!   You got that?  Is that sinking in?  Now beat it!”  Turned to the rest of the staring crowd.  “All of y’all.  The house is not for sale.  Now get the hell out!”

Walt listened to his partner’s raised voice overhead, then the multiple footsteps, retreating.   Heard Jesse’s voice again, and a woman’s, in muffled conversation.  The real estate agent.  She didn’t sound happy.   A tap-tap of heels.  The front door slamming.

After a few minutes the basement door opened.  Jesse trudged wearily down the stairs.  He sat down, just above the landing.  Glanced over at Walt.  His expression was drained.

Walt glared at him silently from behind his gas mask.

Jesse looked back at him.  His expression sharpened.   He spread his hands.  “ _What_?” 

Still glaring at him, Walt shook his head. 

“I told you man, it wasn’t my fault!”

Walt breathed deliberately out through his nose.  Took a moment.   Then said, “When something is this critical, saying “it wasn’t my fault,” doesn’t cut it.  Would that have made you feel better if we were both on our way to jail right now?”

“Well what did you expect me to do?”

“Oh _I_ don’t know…maybe make sure you had a live conversation with her?  I mean, she was probably right outside.”

“Well excuse me for not thinking _just like you_.  You know, you could have suggested that to me…”

“I see.  So now I’m supposed to do your thinking for you.  This was actually all _my_ fault.”

“Well…yeah.”

“Uh, huh.”  Walt didn’t trust himself to continue this unbelievably ridiculous conversation.  He needed to concentrate.  He beckoned Jesse over.  “Come here.  I want to show you what we’re doing.  You might as well learn something.  If that’s possible.”

“Dick.”  But Jesse started making his way over.  Walt rolled his eyes.  Waved him back with rubber-gloved hands.  “Put on your mask!”  He shook his head. 

***

Hours later.   Full dark outside the basement windows.

The batch was done, setting in the pan.  It was an ethereal, crystalline blue.  Jesse and Mr. White were cleaning up. 

“Careful with that!”

“I _am_ being careful.  Jesus!”

“It’s time to break this up.  Where’re the bags?”

“Upstairs.  I’ll get one.”  Jesse climbed wearily up the stairs.  He was exhausted.

“Bring down something to crack this with too.”  Mr. White called after him. 

“Like what?”

“Like…a knife or a screwdriver, or…a hammer, or something we can pound this with.  Figure it out!”

“Dick dick dick dick…” said Jesse under his breath.  Slammed the door.  Came back a few moments later, holding a marble-handled rolling pin.  Handed it to Mr. White.

Mr. White handed it back.  “You do it.  Careful…”

Setting his teeth, Jesse _carefully_ tapped the sheet of meth with the end of the rolling pin, breaking it up.  It looked like blue sugar candy, infinitely tempting.  He transferred the crystals delicately into the plastic freezer bag.  He would dip in later, away from Mr. White’s judging eyes, and take a small bit ( _less than a teenth okay?_ ) for himself.  To test it after all.  Tuco not the only one responsible for quality control.

Mr. White’s eyes were on him.  God, was the man psychic?  Jesse met his gaze.  “Is that it then?”

Mr. White regarded him another moment.  “That’s it.”  Gestured to the tables.  “We’ll leave the equipment here for now until we sort out the RV.  Just make sure it’s covered for dust.”

“Okay.”

Mr. White rubbed his eyes behind his glasses.  “I’m starved.  What’s available for dinner?”

“Um…”

“Never mind.  I’ll look.”  He pulled off his apron, folding it and laying down.  Then glanced at Jesse, who was still holding the freezer bag filled with their product.  Held out his hand.  Jesse passed the bag to him.  Mr. White turned towards the stairs.  Said over his shoulder.  “Make sure everything is covered properly– “

“ -for dust.  Yeah, yeah, I heard you.”

“Good.”  He trudged up the stairs, the bag of meth in his hand.

Jesse regarded their ad hoc laboratory with no enthusiasm at all.  Fuck, what a long day.

***

Walt and Jesse were sitting at the kitchen table, plates of food and bottles of beer in front of them.  They were eating silently. 

Walt looked at his partner.  “So I guess your house is officially off the market.”

Jesse didn’t look back.  “I guess so.”

“It’s probably for the best.  I mean, in this economy I don’t know what you’d get for it, but—“

Jesse put down his fork.  “I wasn’t selling it for the _economy_.  I told you, I’m having trouble living here now.  Remember?”  He raised his eyebrows sarcastically. 

Walt’s eyes narrowed.  “Yes, I remember.  You remind me fairly often.  Almost daily, in fact.  What _you_ don’t seem to remember is that if you hadn’t been so stupid to bring those two maniacs out there, I never would have had to _kill them_.  We wouldn’t have _had_ that mess in your house and you’d have been fine here.”

Jesse slammed his hands down on the table.  “I was _forced_ to bring them out there.  It wasn’t my fault—“

Walt stood up.  “ _Nothing_ is your fault, is it?” he bit out.  “You take _no_ responsibility for your own actions.  Everything is always up to someone else.  It’s never _you.”_  He stalked around the table.  Pulled Jesse off his chair.  “Get up.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve had enough of this.  It’s time you learned a lesson.  I’m punishing you.”

Jesse laughed incredulously.  “Dude, you are not!”

Walt smiled tightly.  “Oh yes, I am.  You need to be punished.  Very badly.  And by the time I’m done, you’ll understand why.  You’ll be thanking me.”

Jesse stared at Walt silently, his lips slightly parted.  After a moment, he asked.  “What are you going to do?”

Walt answered.  “I’m going to spank you.  But not with my hand this time.  That’s just for maintenance.   This is going to really hurt.  Give you something to remember.”

Jesse was breathing rapidly.  “That’s not going to happen.”

“Oh it is.”  Walt said grimly.  “You're going to submit to this.  Or it ends here, tonight.  We complete this last deal and we’re done.  The partnership is over.”

Jessie’s eyes were fixed on him.  After a moment he said.  “You said you needed me.”

“I do.  But on my terms.”

Jesse was silent.  Then said, slowly, “What are you going to use?”

Walt concealed his triumph.  “I saw an old wooden hairbrush in the bathroom.  That should do it.  Go and get it for me.”

Jesse stood motionless in front of him, eyes glistening.   They were both silent.  Then Jesse suddenly turned on his heel and clattered up the stairs.

Walt walked to the living room.

Jesse was back downstairs.  He called, “Mr. White?”

“In here.”

Jesse walked slowly into the living room.  The hairbrush was in his hand.  He stopped in front of Walt.

Walt held out his hand.  “Give it to me.”

Jesse handed the hairbrush to him. 

“Thank you.  Now take off your pants and shorts.  And that ridiculous hat.  You can leave your shirt on.”

Jesse’s hands were shaking.  He pulled off his hat.  Undid his pants.  Let them drop, stepped out of them.  Pulled off his undershorts.   Looked back at his partner.

“Very good.  Now go over to the back of that couch and bend over it.”

“Mr. White—“

“Did I say you could speak?   Do it.”

Jesse turned and walked slowly over to the couch.  Bent over its back, bracing his hands on the edge.

“Good.  Now before you get comfortable, I want you to lift up your shirt.  Make sure it’s out of the way.”

Jesse closed his eyes briefly.  He reached back and pulled his sweatshirt and undershirt up over his back, fully exposing his bottom.  He tucked the fabric under his arms.  Put his hands back down on the couch.

Walt stepped forward and placed a hand on one white cheek.  Rubbed it.  “Very nice.  Now tell me you are ready.”

Silence.

“Jesse.  Tell me.”

“I’m ready.”  Jesse’s voice was muffled.

“Very good.”  Walt drew back his hand and gave Jesse a hard spank with the hairbrush.  Heard the kid’s sharp intake of breath.  A red mark surfaced.  

Walt spanked him again, quite hard.  And then again, using his full strength.

Jesse winced under the sharp pain.  This really hurt.  Mr. White hadn’t been kidding.  The hairbrush hit him again, smacking flesh already stinging from an earlier blow.  And again.  He was gasping, biting his lip.  He wasn’t going to give that bastard the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

Walt paused, surveying the results of his work.  The flesh of Jesse’s bottom was turning pink, the oval marks made by the flat end of the hairbrush standing out clearly. 

Walt adjusted his position slightly behind Jesse and spanked him again, hitting a new spot lower down, right on the plumpest part of Jesse’s bottom, just over his thighs.   Hit that spot again, very hard.  Switched to the other side, delivered two more hard, smacking blows.   Then back to the first side.

Helplessly, Jesse started to writhe, the stinging pain increasing sharply under each impact of the hairbrush.  Mr. White was spanking him methodically, covering every surface, ensuring that all parts of Jesse’s bottom received the same attention. 

Jesse had lost track of the blows at this point.  The pain was starting to take over his awareness, blotting out everything else.  

Mr. White paused.  He stepped close to Jesse, spoke into his ear.  “I think it’s time you tell me what you’ve learned.”

Jesse was quiet, not trusting his voice.

Mr. White’s hand came down hard on his bottom.  Despite himself, Jesse moaned.  “Jesse.  I’m asking you to tell me what you've learned.”

“I don’t know man!  I don’t know what you want!”

“Yes you do.  And until you tell me, this is going to continue.”  The spanking resumed, very hard.

Tears had come to Jesse’s eyes.  He spoke, gasping, between blows.  “I’ve learned… to…take…responsibility.”

Walt brought the hairbrush down painfully on his bottom.  “That’s not enough.”

“Ow!  Mr. White, please!”

“You haven’t finished.  Go on.”

Jesse swallowed.  “I’ve learned to take responsibility for…my own actions,” he said in a hoarse voice.  “To not…to not blame others for my mistakes.”

“And…?”

“And what!”  Jesse yelled back.

The hairbrush spanked him again, repeatedly, five excruciating blows.  By the end, Jesse was twisting back and forth, helplessly.  “Figure it out," Mr. White said.  "Or this continues.”

Tears were starting to run down Jesse's face.  He fought them back, swallowing. 

“Jesse.  I’m waiting.”

Jesse’s voice was choked.  “I’ve learned…that it’s important to think things through for myself.”

Mr. White laid the hairbrush lightly against Jesse’s bottom.   Its wooden surface was cool against his burning, stinging flesh.  “And what does that mean, exactly, to you?”

“To…make sure things are taken care of.  Not to leave that up to others.”

“Go on.”

Jesse couldn’t think of what else to say.  He started to turn around, eyes pleading.

“Stay where you are!”   Mr. White started spanking him again, coming down hard, aiming for the rawest, most tender spots.  The wooden hairbrush in his hand was a live, vicious thing.

Jesse was writhing.  Nothing mattered anymore but the hard impact of the wooden hairbrush against his bottom, the bloom of pain, agonizing, and the anticipation of the next, even more painful blow to come.  

"Jesse," Mr. White's voice.  "I'm waiting."  Another wallop with the brush.  Jesse continued, words halting, doing his best to speak through the brutal smacks.  “…To…to…think ahead.  To anticipate…problems.  To…consider options...I’ve learned it’s important to think things through for myself!”  he finished in a rush. 

“Uh huh.”  Mr. White’s arm didn’t seem to be tiring.  The spanking continued.  “Go on.” 

Jesse was crying, in spite of himself.  His whole body was covered in sweat, breaking down.  Mr. White was still hitting him.  Again.  And again.  There was a hot buzzing in his brain.  He lowered his head, barely able to speak, pausing for breath after every strike.  “…To…to think things through…before….doing something.  And…to…anticipate problems.  Have a….a plan.  And to take responsibility…for my actions…” 

He drew a shuddering breath, turned an agonized face towards his partner.  “Okay?”

The spanking stopped.  Mr. White stood silent, considering.  Jesse held his gaze, his tearful eyes wide.  Finally Mr. White nodded.  “That will do.  For now.”   He put the hairbrush down on the couch, just under Jesse’s nose.   “I’m washing the dishes.  I want you to stay here and think about all of this until I get back.  You’re not to move.”  He left the room.

Jesse dropped his head between his shoulders.  Stayed in the rigidly braced, bent over position.  Tears were running freely from his eyes.  They dropped onto the flat oval surface of the hairbrush.  He stared at it.

***

Mr. White was back in the room.  Jesse didn’t look at him.  He stayed unmoving in his position behind the couch.

Mr. White came up behind him.  Gently grasped the shirts that were bunched under Jesse’s arms and pulled them down.   Embraced him from behind.  Jesse closed his eyes.

Mr. White kissed Jesse’s nape.  He wrapped his arms around Jesse’s torso, his hands flat on Jesse’s chest, straightening him up.  Then continued to hold Jesse from behind, rocking him slightly, his breath warm on Jesse’s neck.

Jesse kept his eyes closed.  He was frowning, trying to control his expression.  His lips were trembling.  He took a deep breath, feeling Mr. White’s chest rise and fall against his back.  Mr. White's arms were folded over Jesse tenderly.  After a moment, Jesse let himself relax against his partner, leaning into him.  He brought a hand up, his fingers covering Mr. White’s.  Felt Mr. White tighten his hold.  Mr. White kissed his neck.

Walt turned Jesse around to face him.  “Put your arms around me.”

Jesse looped his arms around Walt’s waist.  He leaned forward, putting his face into Walt’s chest.  Walt continued to hold him, one hand going to the back of Jesse’s head, caressing the fluffy hair.  They stayed silent for a moment.

Walt spoke softly.  “Let’s go upstairs.  I’ll take care of you.  Come on.”

***

Jesse lay naked, face down on the bed.   Mr. White sat beside him, holding a cold, wet towel against his bottom, carefully touching the abraded flesh.  It wasn’t helping much.

“How’s that?  Feel any better?”

Jesse didn’t know how to respond to that.  He let a moment go by.  “You really hurt me, you know.”

Mr. White’s hand stilled.  “I know.”

Jesse turned his head.  Looked at his partner.

Mr. White gazed back.  “I meant to hurt you," he said.  "That’s what punishment is.  It doesn’t work otherwise.”

Jesse turned his face away.

Walt removed the towel.  He opened a jar of skin cream, started massaging the cool, healing lotion into Jesse’s bottom.  Jesse made a sound of discomfort.

Walt continued.  “It’s important you remember this.  Remember the pain.  That’s what’s waiting if I decide to punish you again.  It’s not play.  It’s a reminder to do better.”

Jesse spoke into the bed.  “When would you decide that?”

“Hmm?”

“When would you decide if I need to be punished again?”

“When I need to get through to you.”

Jesse suddenly felt tears rising, uncontrollable.  He was overcome with a feeling of claustrophobia, of being hopelessly trapped within himself.   He turned and put his head in Mr. White’s lap.  Closed his eyes.

Mr. White stroked his hair.  “Sh-sh.  It will be alright.  You’ll see.”


	9. Chapter 9

Dawn was rising.

Walt was still awake.  Staring at the ceiling. 

Jesse was sleeping pressed against Walt’s side, his head tucked under Walt’s arm. His face was serene, his breathing quiet and slow. 

Walt was feeling uncomfortable.  

Why had he punished the kid so harshly?  Insist that Jesse submit, threaten to break the partnership if he didn't...had all of that really been necessary? The whole point of this arrangement, if he was to recollect his original plan, was to _enjoy himself..._ to play with Jesse _(that lithe young body)_  as kind of a perk, in the uncertain time he had left.  To have some fun.  And to preserve some detachment and control over the situation.  Above all, not to let the kid become his responsibility.  God knew he had enough of those, with his own family.  After all, he wasn't Jesse's dad.

Well _that_ plan had lasted about five minutes.  At this point, he felt as responsible for Jesse as he did for his wife and son.  

Walt reflected on his observations of the kid, so far.  Other than him, who did Jesse have?   He seemed surprisingly isolated.  During the time Jesse was hurt it didn’t appear that anyone had checked on him, other than Walt.  And Walt had seen no sign of his parents.  Walt remembered them vaguely from parent-teacher meetings.  They had seemed okay, a decent couple, concerned about their son’s wellbeing.   Well apparently, not anymore.  Mind you, it was possible that Jesse was keeping people at a distance _because_ of his involvement with Walt.  It’s not like Walt’s presence was easily explainable. 

But still.  In the hours Walt had spent with Jesse, many at this point, he hadn't seen the kid receive one phone call.  And when he came by Jesse’s house, he never had the sense, as he did with practically everyone else -with his friends, his son and in-laws, with _Skyler,_ of the ongoing stream of an individual life, filled with other people, other events, a myriad of things unrelated to him.  A stream of interests independent of Walt’s presence.

No. Walt had the frightening impression that for Jesse, right now, any relevant engagement with the world around him stopped and started with Walt.  With Walt, and their business and their secret, obsessive intimacy.  And worse, he'd seen this early on, and let it happen, encouraged it actually, because let’s face it, he _was_ obsessed with Jesse, and it seemed only fair.  With Jesse's power over him _(the longing)_ , more than Walt would ever admit to, well, Jesse would be claimed in his turn.  Possessed.  No other option available. 

But what to do with him now?

Walt closed his eyes.  He'd assumed he could make a plaything out of Jesse, an indulgence for a dying man, not admirable maybe, but forgiveable.  After all the kid had been around, he was no innocent, he could take it.  He’d wanted in on the game, Walt knew that.  Had seen that from the beginning. 

But this wasn't a game.  Never had been, let’s be honest.  This was…something else.  Walt now saw he'd been a fool -allowing himself to be carried away by his pride, his naïve confidence that he could just take what he wanted.  Without regard for the consequences.  And now, awake, observing himself caught like a twig, barely afloat, in the dark underground current of a river hurtling downwards.  Miles from daylight.     

And not just him.  Jesse too.

***

Bright light shone from behind the covered windows.

Jesse woke up, conscious of a throbbing soreness in his ass, along with pain in what felt like every muscle in his body.  He must have been as tense as wire when Mr. White was whaling on him last night.

He was lying on his side, curled into a ball, his back tucked against Mr. White, whose arm he felt pressed against the top of his head.   The man was lying face up, stretched out flat, _snoring._

Jesse listened to the sound for awhile.  It wasn’t soothing.  He considered jabbing an elbow into Mr. White to wake him up, or at least encourage him to turn around.  Well…maybe not.

Jesse took in the warm light seeping into the bedroom.  It must be late.  He and Mr. White had been up most of the night, what with the cook and the…spanking.

He closed his eyes, remembering each moment of that horrible session with the frame-by-frame clarity in which he re-lived every encounter with Mr. White.  The endless, painful, smacking blows.  His desperate appeals, ignored.  His submission to the punishment, and his ultimate, total surrender to his former teacher.  Mr. White’s tenderness with him at the end.  

Jesse moved a hand back, carefully touching himself.  His ass felt bruised, swollen.  He could just imagine how it looked. 

Before Mr. White, no one had ever hit him.  His parents had never hit him.  Lectured him, sure.  Grounded him (ineffectively) many times.  But never hit him.  Never…spanked him.  Mr. White was pretty old school.  Jesse wondered whether Mr. White did the same with his wife or son.  Somehow he doubted it.  He’d bet it was only him.  Lucky him.

He gingerly turned over, observed Mr. White.  The man’s harsh features didn’t look any softer in sleep.  Jesse studied him awhile.   

He had to piss.  Very carefully, he got himself up off the bed.  Mr. White didn’t stir.  Jesse walked softly to the bathroom, took care of the necessary.  Then looked at himself in the bathroom mirror.  Turned around.  Oh my god. 

His butt was dark red.  And welted.  The marks started just below his back and continued down to the tops of his thighs. 

Jesse turned around again, looked at his face.  He was flushed, blushing, one of the drawbacks of being fair skinned.  His eyes stared back at him from the mirror, furious. 

He walked quietly back into the bedroom.  Found a pair of shorts and put them on.  Even the light, soft touch of cotton was painful against his skin.  Stood by the bed, looking down at his sleeping partner.

Mr. White snored on, oblivious.  His long, powerful frame was bare to the waist, the rest of him lightly covered by the white sheet.   Jesse could see the solid outline of his thighs, his cock.  He looked so large and incongruous lying there, in Jesse’s bed.

Jesse had a vision of Mr. White moving in.  Seeing Mr. White like this every day, waking up with him in the mornings.  Sleeping beside him every night.  Jesse couldn’t imagine any ghosts messing with the scientific brain of Mr. White.  Mr. White cooking for him (Jesse was kind of enjoying that).  Cleaning up.  Laundry.  He was a domestic guy.  Jesse had been living pretty rough since his aunt had died.  Having Mr. White around the house was something of an asset.  When Jesse didn’t feel like killing him, that is.

And the…other stuff.  It was hard to admit (and he never would, to anyone, _including_ his former teacher), but he had never relished sex so much in his life.  Never thought about sex so much.  Anticipating it.  Remembering it.  In Jesse’s personal history, apart from the initial, novel experiences with giggling (and/or drunken) teenage girls, sex had been something he pretty much took for granted.  His due.  Recreational.  It had never touched him, really.  But this thing, with Mr. White?  It went right through him, deep into him, every time.   Every hungry, seeking kiss.  Mr. White’s hands and mouth on his body, caressing him.   His cock, piercing him.  And the pain that Mr. White didn’t hesitate to inflict.  Whipping him.  Spanking him. 

Jesse felt himself getting hard.  He could get used to having Mr. White around.  Including the dreadful anticipation of more sessions like last night. 

But Mr. White wasn’t going to be around, not long term anyway.   The plan was for him and Jesse to make their money as fast as possible, a race against the cancer, waiting in the shadows.  And presumably before then, he would go back to his family.

Jesse was suddenly angry.  Mr. White had a lot of nerve, taking over Jesse’s life like this.  And then to leave him, to return to his other life, the one that _wasn’t_ a secret, or to his death, either way.  Leaving Jesse alone.

Jesse moved closer to his partner’s sleeping body.  Reached out a hand, touched Mr. White’s cock, outlined under the sheet.  It was slightly hard, a firm weight.  Jesse ran his fingers over it.  Mr. White stirred a bit, but kept sleeping.   Snoring away.

Jesse grasped the sheet by its edge and lifted it lightly off Mr. White, doing his best not to disturb him.  He stared at his partner, taking him in.   

Mr. White lay heavily on the bed, his naked, long legged body dark against the white sheets.  One muscular arm still curved in the shape where Jesse’s head had been.  His broad chest, rough with hair, rose and fell evenly.  He’d lost weight, Jesse noticed  -his muscles were more defined, stomach flat.   He was well proportioned, well formed, the skin on his body smooth, velvety, much younger looking than his craggy face.  Again, Jesse had the impression of a strong, sleek, predatory animal residing under a prosaic veneer.   Mr. White’s legs were relaxed and spread slightly apart, furred with dark hair like his chest, his cock resting between the solid thighs.  Jesse ran a hand up along one of Mr. White’s legs, feeling the springy texture of the hair under his hand. The snoring abruptly stopped.  Jesse looked up.  

Mr. White was awake.  His green eyes, heavy lidded, were fixed on Jesse.

Jesse returned his partner’s gaze silently.  Then he carefully climbed back onto the bed, kneeling in between Mr. White’s legs.  Looked up again, briefly.  Leaned over Mr. White, placing his hands flat on the bed.  Took Mr. White’s cock in his mouth.  

Walt felt that hot, silky mouth close over him, sucking.  The pleasure was immediate, overwhelming.  He groaned involuntarily, hardening, his hips lifting off the bed. 

Jesse’s tongue curled around Walt’s cock, curving around the underside of the shaft, then wrapping itself around the sensitive glans.  He dipped his head, forehead brushing Walt’s stomach, enveloping Walt deeply into his mouth, then moving his lips rapidly up and down.  Crouched tightly between Walt’s legs, Jesse brought his hands up to grasp Walt’s balls, gathering them into one hand, pulling the skin taut and holding Walt’s cock in place to receive the ongoing ministrations of his lips and tongue.

The movement of Jesse’s mouth on him was unhurried, calculated, exquisitely skillful.  Walt groaned, his hands curling into the mattress, then coming up to rest on Jesse’s shoulders.  At Walt’s touch, Jesse glanced up briefly.  Walt had the impression of cool blue eyes taking in his reaction, before the kid returned to his concentrated, sinuous activity.

Walt felt an orgasm building, entering him with inexorable force.  He clamped his hands on Jesse’s head, fingers buried in the silky blonde hair, started moving his hips helplessly, straining against the tight grip of Jesse’s hand around his balls.

Jesse was attune to him.   Walt felt the kid press his body more closely against him, nuzzling his face into Walt’s groin.  He scraped his tongue hard against the underside of Walt’s shaft.  The back of his mouth closed like a slick, satiny hand over the tip of Walt’s cock.  Walt gave himself up to his release, gasping, coming strongly into Jesse’s mouth, the orgasm ripping through him.  He felt the movement of Jesse’s throat as he swallowed.  He let his hands relax against Jesse’s head, fingers still threaded through the dark blonde hair. 

Jesse sat up, his eyes meeting Walt’s.  He wiped the back of his hand across his lips. 

Said, “You were bluffing last night.  You would never walk away from this partnership.”

Walt was silent.  Jesse continued.  “You might get mad at me.  You might punish me and expect me to take it.  But you’re not ending this partnership.  You would never just walk away.”

Walt continued wordless.   Jesse lay down on top of Walt’s body, folding his arms, his chin propped up on Walt’s chest.  He put his face close, eyes fixed on Walt.  “You know how I know?” he asked.

Walt looked back at him, waiting.

Jesse said, softly, “I know, because...you’re _crazy about me_.  You can’t stop thinking about me.  You need me _exactly where I am_ … You want to control everything about me, and when you can’t, that makes you crazy, and you punish me for it.” 

Walt stared at his partner’s face.  Jesse’s expression was calm, somewhat detached.  His blue gaze contained the knowledge of his words. He observed Walt consideringly, without affection. Walt felt his own expression breaking apart.  Jesse’s fine features in front of him, so perfectly shaped, his beauty almost otherworldly.  Walt said nothing.

Jesse moved, shifting his arms and legs to straddle Walt’s body.  He bent his head, took one of Walt’s nipples into his mouth and sucked on it, biting down, running his tongue around it expertly.   Moved to the other nipple, repeating the same treatment.   Walt closed his eyes.

Jesse moved his lips to Walt’s throat, kissing him, pushing his face into Walt’s neck.  He put his mouth under Walt’s ear, the tip of his tongue coming out to touch wetly on the sensitive skin.  Walt was breathing deeply.  He kept his eyes closed.  He was acutely aware of Jesse’s warm body, hovering over him, surrounding him, the silky touch of his skin, the fine tickling hair, the delicate mouth. 

Jesse kissed him, sliding his tongue between Walt’s lips.  His mouth touched Walt tenderly. Walt raised his chin, searching for him, kissing Jesse back.   Jesse leaned himself into Walt, his tongue coming up to stroke the roof of Walt’s mouth.  Walt could taste him, musky, slightly salty.  The kisses continued, slower, softer, insistent.  Walt felt drugged, under water.  His mouth was given up to Jesse, surrendered. 

Jesse broke the contact and sat up, straddling Walt’s hips.   Walt looked at him, silently.  Jesse reached out and took one of Walt’s nipples between his thumb and fingers, pinching it slowly, then pulling.  Walt winced. 

“You’re crazy about me.”  Jesse repeated.

Walt was silent.

Jesse leaned over him again.  Kissed his mouth, ran his tongue over Walt’s lips.  Kissed him again.  And again, lips sweetly playing, taking his time.  Whispered.  “ _You’re crazy about me.  Say it.”_

After a moment, Walt answered.  His voice was strained.  “I’m crazy about you.”   He let out a harsh breath, his arms coming up to embrace Jesse, drawing him down onto his chest.  He felt the kid press his face against his throat, the soft hair against his cheek.   He turned his own face into Jesse, burying his nose against him, breathing him in.  “I adore you,” he whispered. 

Jesse lay silently on top of Walt’s body, his own arms around Walt in a loose embrace.  He said into Walt’s neck.  “You would never leave me.”

Walt was quiet.  “I would never want to,” he said eventually.  “I want you with me all the time.”  Walt’s arms tightened around his partner, enfolding him.

Jesse raised his head.  Looked at Walt gravely.  “That doesn’t really make a difference though, does it,” he said.  “At some point, you’re leaving. And you won't be back.”

Walt placed a hand on Jesse’s head, settling him back down against his chest.  The young man lay quietly, breathing softly, his body warm within Walt's arms.  The feeling of life. 

Walt closed his eyes.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.


	10. Chapter 10

Walt and Jesse were lying on Jesse’s bed, limbs loosely entwined.  Outside the bright day was passing.  After their earlier exchange, they had both drifted back to sleep.

Walt eventually stirred, opened his eyes.  He observed his partner’s naked back, turned to him.  Reached out and rubbed a hand up and down the warm skin.

Jesse turned his head, looked sleepily at him.

“Hey.”

Jesse turned away again.  “Hey.”

“Well it looks like today is shot.”  Walt said.

Jesse spoke into his pillow.  “Good thing we had nothing to do.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been beaten up.”

Walt was silent.  His hand was still, resting on Jesse’s hip.  After a moment, he said “Are you hungry?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“I’ll get you something.  Stay here.”  

Jesse heard Mr. White get up behind him, steps retreating to the bathroom.  Water running.  Jesse remained lying on the bed, turned away from the door.  Closed his eyes again.

Mr. White had re-entered the room.  Jesse heard him rummaging around, putting on his clothes.  He paused by the bed.  Spoke to Jesse’s back.

“How’s scrambled eggs?”

“Okay.”

“With bacon?”

“Sure, whatever.”

“Okay.”  A pause.  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  He left.  Jesse heard his steps on the stairs.  Faint noises from the kitchen.

Jesse took stock of himself.  He didn’t feel any better than he had earlier.  Still really stiff and sore, not to mention his ass, which was _really_ sore.   Forget cancer.  _He_ was going to kill Mr. White.  

He levered himself gingerly off of the bed, walked haltingly to the bathroom.  Then back to the bed.  Yanked the quilt up from its rumpled spot and drew it over his head.

Walt came back to the bedroom, carrying a tray.  He observed his partner, a vague, covered lump.  Went over, put the tray down on the bed.  Sat down. 

“Jesse?”  He put a hand on the lump.

“Mmph.”

“I’ve got breakfast.”

Silence.

Walt jostled him slightly.  “Come on, turn over.”

There was a pause.  Then the quilt stirred.  Jesse appeared, hauling himself up to sit cross legged, bare to the waist.   He rested his hands in his lap.  Looked at Walt.

Walt handed the tray of food to him.  Jesse surveyed the scrambled eggs, bacon slices and buttered toast.  Glass of orange juice.  He picked up a slice of bacon and crunched. 

“I included a fork.”

“Thanks.”  Jesse left the fork where it was.

Walt looked at his partner.  Jesse’s hair was standing untidily up on his head.  His face was shaded with stubble, already several days old.  He slouched morosely over the plate of food, chewing silently.

“Um, how is your…er…behind?”

Jesse looked at him.  “Doesn’t feel too great.  Dickwad.”

Walt felt himself start to smile.  He controlled it, looking away.  “I’ll get you some ice, after you’ve finished eating.”

“Uh huh.  I know you’re fond of that ice.”  Jesse took a swallow of the orange juice.

Walt continued.  “And maybe I could help you clean up a bit.  When was the last time you shaved?  And you know, I don’t think you showered yesterday…”

Jesse stopped eating.  Glared at him.  “No.  I don’t need your help ‘cleaning up’ man.  Don’t even go there.  And anyway, I’m doing nothing today but lying around in this bed.  _Recovering._   You know?  From that beating you decided I needed so much?   So no.  Put up with it.”

Walt looked down at his hands.  Looked up again.  “Well maybe I could—“

“No!  Stop _hovering!_   Jesus, just let me eat in peace!”

Walt got to his feet, raising both hands in surrender.  “Okay, okay…I’ll be downstairs.”   He left the room.  

Jesse heard Mr. White’s steps retreating.  He shook his head, continued with the food.  Picked up the fork, started in on the scrambled eggs.  They were pretty good.

***

Mr. White returned.  Jesse was lying down again.  He turned around when he heard his partner enter.  Mr. White walked towards him, carefully balanced, clutching an icetray and towel in one hand, and two glasses in the other.  The bottle of Crown Royal was tucked under his arm.

Jesse looked at him, unspeaking. 

Mr. White set the glasses and the bottle of whiskey down on the nightstand.  Put the finished tray of food on the bureau.  Laid the towel out flat on the bed, and cracked the ice tray over it, spilling the cubes onto the towel’s surface.  Then carefully folded the towel in to a pad.  Turned to Jesse.

“Let’s put this on you.  Can you turn over?”

Jesse held his gaze for a moment.  Then flung the covers off, turning around to lie face down on the white sheet.  He buried his face in his folded arms.

Walt looked at the cotton undershorts.  “Aren't you taking those off?”

“No.”

“Well…okay.  Here we go.”  Walt carefully placed the ice pad on Jesse’s bottom, laying a hand on top of it to keep it steady.

Jesse hissed with discomfort, shifting.  “Ouch!”

“Sh-sh.  Just let it stay there for a few minutes.”  Walt pressed his hand lightly down.  Jesse subsided.

The two of them were silent.  Jesse lay unmoving, head pillowed in his arms.  Walt’s hand was getting cold.  He replaced one hand with the other.

Eventually, asked.  “How’s that feel now?”

“Okay.”  Jesse’s voice was muffled.

Walt removed the pad, which had gotten damp.  “I think you should change those.”  He tugged gently on Jesse’s undershorts, which were also damp.  “Do you—“ 

Jesse interrupted.  “No man, I can change my own shorts, thanks.  Just get me another pair.”   He gestured vaguely to the bureau. 

Walt went over to the bureau and opened a drawer.  He observed the surviving, neatly folded stacks of underwear and t-shirts, the result of his previous assistance with Jesse’s housekeeping.  Turned and cast his eyes around the growing piles of discarded clothing, scattered around the room. 

“Don’t you ever put anything away?”

Jesse didn’t look at him.  “Not if I can help it.”

Walt rolled his eyes.  Retrieved a pair of undershorts and tossed them at Jesse, landing them on his head.  “Here.  I’m going to take this stuff downstairs.  I’ll be back shortly.”  He left the room.

Jesse waited until he heard Mr. White’s steps reach the bottom of the stairs.  Then he got up, peeled off the wet shorts and replaced them with the dry ones that Mr. White had so politely handed to him.  Laid a hand briefly on his cold flesh.  He was very reluctant for Mr. White to see the full extent of the damage he’d suffered.  Either the man would treat it like (one), a well deserved lesson; (two), be _(ick, gross)_ turned _on_ by Jesse’s welts and bruises _;_ or (three), feel incredibly (like he _should_ ) guilty and badly for what he did, which would also be awkward.  

Jesse didn’t think he could handle any of those reactions right now.  He flopped back down on the bed.  Saw the discarded shorts, lying in a small, damp pile beside him.  Picked them up and held them deliberately over the floor.   Dropped them.

Mr. White was back.  In his hand, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.  He tossed them at Jesse.  “Here.”

Jesse sat up.  “Hey, thanks man.”  He lit up.

“You’re welcome.”  Mr. White picked up the bottle of whiskey, and poured out two glasses.  Handed one to Jesse.  Then settled back onto the bed.  Took a long swallow from his glass.

Jesse looked at him.  “Isn’t it a little early?”

“It’s not that early," Mr. White said.  "And I could kind of use it.  Figured you could too.”

Jesse nodded, took a swallow of the whiskey.  Dragged on his cigarette, the smoke settling comfortably into his lungs.

Mr. White tilted his head back.  His eyes were closed.  “I’m expecting a very positive response from Tuco on what we cooked yesterday.  This should get us on our way.” 

Jesse shook his head.  “That guy is a total loon.  I mean, you saw his eyes, right?  Complete nut job.  We’ll be lucky if we survive dealing with him.”

Mr. White didn’t open his eyes.  “We’ll be fine.  And anyway, what choice do we have at this point?  Just focus on the money, remember?  Forty-four thousand dollars for you, forty-four thousand dollars for me.  And that’s just the start.” 

Jesse was thinking about the next cook.  “We’ll have to do something about the RV.  We can’t cook here again.  Too risky.”

“Yeah.  You’ll need to find us a tow truck operator who won’t create any difficulty.  Think that’s going to be a problem?”

“Shouldn’t be.  I’ll ask around.”

“Thanks.”

They were silent.  Jesse finished his cigarette.  Lit another one.  Walt looked at him.

“You smoke too much.”

“Man, don’t start.”

“Look, you’re talking to the guy who’s dying from lung cancer.  Shouldn’t that be a warning?”

“Did you smoke?”

“Well…no.”

“So…what’s the warning?  I’m missing your point here.”

Walt sighed.  “Well, maybe my point is that you never know if you’ll have less time than you think.  Why stack the odds against your favour on top of it?”

Jesse exhaled a stream of smoke.   “Sometimes doing things isn’t about whether or not it’s in your favour.  Sometimes you do things because you do things.”

“Well that certainly sounds like you.”

“Shut up, man.  And anyway, why does everything have to be a _strategy_ to you?  You’re always doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Always thinking about what’s _in it_ for you.  Whether something will turn out the way you want.  Turn out _in your favour.”_

Walt was quiet for a moment.  “If I didn’t think like that, how could I keep things together?  Not just for me, but for—“

“Your family, yeah, yeah.  Listen.  Maybe that’s not the only way to think, all the time.  Maybe keeping things together isn’t always the be-all and end-all of things.”

“That’s very deep, Jesse, thank you.  But thinking in terms of strategy is what _survival_ is all about.   _Strategic thinking_ is _survival thinking_ , Jesse.   If you don’t consider the potential benefits or risks of your actions, you are leaving yourself open to _bad decisions_.  And bad decisions will lessen your chance of _survival._   See how that works?”

“Um, sure, I see how that works.  In theory.  But you’ve got to admit it sounds a bit strange coming from you.  Didn’t you just say you were _the man dying from lung cancer?_   I don’t think `strategic thinking’ has been working too well for _you_ , Mr. White.”

“No,” Walt agreed quietly.  “It hasn’t worked for me all that well.  But it’s going to work for the people I care about.”

Jesse didn’t respond immediately.  Eventually said, “Let’s say you beat this thing.  That the cancer goes away.  And let’s say that we make the fat stacks like you’re expecting from this product.  Provided Tuco or someone else doesn’t kill us first.  What would you do after that?”

Walt considered.  Then he laughed.  “You know, Jesse, that’s a good question.  I just realized, I haven’t thought of that at all.  The possibility that I might live, that is.  So much for my strategic thinking.  That’s one contingency I _haven’t_ been planning for.”  He shook his head.   Drained the rest of his whiskey.

Jesse looked at him.  Said slowly, “But let’s say you did.  Let’s say you _did_ beat this thing, and everything worked out.  What kind of life would you want?  If you don’t mind me saying, Mr. White, from what I remember, you didn’t seem like all that happy a guy, even _before_ the cancer.”

Walt glanced at him.  “I didn’t seem like a `man contented in my life' to you?”

Jesse laughed.  “No.  You seemed like a miserable son of a bitch.”

Walt smiled, then looked a bit sad.  “You’re right.  I have been pretty unhappy.  Long before the cancer diagnosis.  You were a more observant student than I thought.”

Jesse snorted.  “Trust me, it didn’t take much observation.”

Walt was gazing into the distance, a look of pensive amusement on his face.  “What kind of life would I want…” he said softly. 

“Tell me what it would look like.”  Jesse said.

There was a different note in Jesse’s voice.  Walt looked over.  Jesse was staring at him with a certain stillness and intensity of expression. 

After a moment, Walt said.  “Well…my dream life would certainly include you.” 

Jesse smiled at him.  His blue eyes were suddenly bright, shining in the dim bedroom. 

Walt felt a tightness in his chest.  He looked down. 

Jesse nudged his leg.  “Tell me about it,” he said again.  “Tell me what it would look like.”

Walt was staring at his hands.  “Okay,” he said, finally.

He reached over and picked up the bottle of Crown Royal.  Re-filled his glass, and Jesse’s.   Put his arm around the younger man, drawing him onto his shoulder.  “Let me tell you all about my dream life…”

The Dream Life of Walter White

Walt was driving home, the wheels of his black Chrysler 300C smoothly negotiating the hot tarmac of Highway 40.  He was a bit later than usual, having just finished meeting with his teaching assistants for the new semester.   Walt had taken on a pretty heavy course load, with a mix of analytical, inorganic and physical chemistry courses at the undergraduate and graduate levels.  It was going to be challenging, balancing that course schedule with his ongoing laboratory research in the use of proton radiography to diagnose the failure of shocked metals, but well worth it, if you considered the groundbreaking (and potentially incredibly lucrative) commercial applications of his findings, particularly for the defence industry. 

_(“Mr. White…what the hell are you talking about?”_

_“You wanted my dream life, Jesse, so I’m describing my dream job.”_

_“It sounds horrible.”_

_“Do you want me to tell you this or not?”_

_“Yeah, keep going.”)_

An ambitious workload, but understandable.   As a new professor, entering his second year on the University of New Mexico faculty, especially one with his somewhat unconventional background, he had something to prove.  Also, if everything went well with his research (and the patents pending), he hoped to eventually leverage both that, and his work with UNM into a teaching and research position with his old alma mater, Caltech.  It would mean moving out of New Mexico, but with Junior graduated from highschool now and in his first year of university, there wasn’t really anything keeping Walt in Albuquerque.  He figured Skyler would love California, especially if he installed her and his daughter in a beach house on the Pacific coast.

_(“Wait a minute…what?”_

_“You’ll see.”)_

But until that happened, the University of New Mexico it was, and Walt intended to have a stellar year. 

Anyway, he wasn’t in such a hurry to leave.  He loved the desert and driving in it.  The commute along the wide open roads to the house he and Jesse had built on a remote patch of land out west of the city (near one of their old cook sites), was one of the highlights of… 

_(“I don’t understand.  Who are you living with?”_

_“I’ll get to it.  Be patient.”)_

…one of the highlights of the days that Walt stayed out there, now that he was splitting his time between the new house with Jesse, and Skyler and their daughter, in town.

_(“Oh.”)_

It had taken a few months for everyone to get used to each other, but things had settled down.  Skyler, after her initial shock and dismay, had proved surprisingly pragmatic about the whole situation.  It didn’t hurt that they were financially comfortable for the first time in their lives, and she was able to raise their daughter and spend time on her writing in the freedom of financial security.  Also, she and Jesse had hit it off surprisingly well-

_(“I don’t know about that, Mr. White.  I’ve met her, remember?  I don’t think she likes me much.  And I didn’t like her much.”_

_“You’ll grow on each other.”)_

-so much so, that the three of them were spending a fair amount of time together, Skyler often driving out with Holly to visit the desert house, sometimes for the weekend.

_(“Um…What kind of time, exactly?”_

_“I don’t know.  We’ll figure that out.”_

_“…Right.”)_

Anyway…it helped that everyone was so busy, doing the things they enjoyed –went a long way towards smoothing out any tensions on the interpersonal side.  Jesse, in particular, was really busy, with a schedule almost as ambitious as Walt’s.

_(“What am I doing?”_

_“That’s a good question actually.  What are you doing?   What would you do in your dream life?”  _

_“Um…I dunno… Go to art school maybe?”_

_“Art school... Okay.”)_

Now in his second year as an undergrad at Albuquerque’s Southwest University of Visual Arts, Jesse was managing a heavy curriculum of his own, and—

_(“And I also think I’d like to be a pilot.”_

_“A pilot.  Okay…”)_

-managing a heavy curriculum of art courses, along with studying for his pilot’s license.  The land they had purchased had ample room for a runway, and Walt had promised Jesse they would buy a small plane once his license was granted.  He was looking forward to flying around with his partner, exploring the remoter parts of the southwest.

_(“…I think I’d also like to work with kids.  You know, to keep them out of trouble.”_

_“Kids. Out of trouble.  Really?  Well, alright…”)_

In addition, Walt and Jesse had used some of the money from the (insanely profitable) sale of their meth business to establish a community art program for under-privileged youth, and Jesse was spending part of each day running the program.  The work tied in very well with his studies at the university, and he was looking to get a course credit for his hours at the community centre.  It was amazing to see how well the kids responded to Jesse’s high energy personality and charm.  Walt was really proud of the difference Jesse had made to those kids’ lives in the relatively short time the program had been running. 

_(“Hey, I’m really something.”_

_“Of course you are.”)_

Enjoying the view of the mountains in the distance, Walt turned off the highway and onto the remote back road that took him to his and Jesse’s newly finished house.  He never drove up towards their house without a sense of pleasure.  The low, modern adobe structure complemented the harsh landscape around it.  He and Jesse had designed it with large windows on all sides, capturing the spectacular views, and had included a beautifully proportioned swimming pool and enclosed courtyard garden, the garden showcasing the horticultural riches of the New Mexican desert, and the pool reflecting the stark blue of the desert sky.  On the days that Skyler came out, she, Walt and Jesse often shared a glass of wine together on the patio, while Walt’s daughter splashed happily in the pool.

_(“I’m not much of a wine drinker.”_

_“You’ll learn.”)_

Walt drove up to their house.  Jesse was already home, his car parked in the driveway.

_(“What are you driving, by the way?”_

_“I don’t know man, that’s a big decision.  Let me think about it.”)_

Walt entered the front hallway through the Spanish style wooden door, struck as always by the quiet, well lit, peaceful environment that he and Jesse had created for themselves.  He took off his shoes, the red clay floor tiles cool under his feet.  Walked down the broad hallway, towards the master bedroom at the back, a large, graciously shaped room, sunken down a couple of steps from the rest of the house, and boasting wide glass doors that opened onto the gently tiered patio.

_(“You sound like `Better Homes and Gardens.’”_

_“Where do you think I got these ideas?”_

_“Oh.”)_

“Jesse?”  Walt called as he approached the bedroom.  No reply.

Walt opened the bedroom door, and paused, surveying the sight before him.  Jesse was lying naked, sprawled face down on top of the covers of their low, kingsize bed, sleeping.

_(“Naked?  Seriously?”_

_“In my dream life, that’s how you are, mostly.”)_

Walt walked quietly over.  Jesse was sleeping with his head pillowed on his arms, face turned to one side.  His satiny skin gleamed against the soft cotton of the bedclothes.  Walt observed his young partner for a moment, then bent and softly kissed Jesse on one smoothly shaven cheek.

_(“Boy, you really want me to shave.”_

_“…Yep.”)_

Jesse stirred, opened his eyes.  As always, Walt was struck by their clear, amazing blue.  Jesse smiled sleepily at him.  “Hey there.”

“Hey.”  Walt leaned forward and kissed Jesse on the lips.  He felt his partner’s mouth open sweetly beneath his.  “How was your day?”

“It was good.  Yours?”

“Very good.  I think I’ll be able to work well with this group.  A promising bunch.”

“That’s good.”  Jesse turned, stretched languorously.   He raised his arms to Walt.  “Come lie down with me.”

Walt undressed, laying his shirt and pants over a nearby chair, and tossing his underwear and socks into a custom designed, recessed laundry hamper, concealed in one of the walls.

_(“Mr. White, can you please stop with these highly specific architectural details?”_

_“Aren’t you enjoying them?”_

_“They’re kind of distracting.”_

_“Sorry.”)_

Walt climbed onto the bed, lying on his back beside Jesse.  The kid raised himself up on one elbow, looking down at him.  Trailed his fingers lightly down Walt’s chest and stomach, to curl around Walt’s cock. 

“How would you like me to take care of you today?”  Jesse’s voice was husky.

Walt considered.  “Your mouth first.  But don’t make me come.  I want to come inside your ass.”

“Alright.”  Jesse moved sinuously down to kneel between Walt’s legs.

_(“What does `sinuously’ mean?”_

_“Look it up.”)_

Jesse took Walt’s cock deeply into his mouth, enclosing it, expertly using his lips and tongue to bring Walt, gasping, to exquisite heights of pleasure. 

_(“Wow, I’m good.”_

_“You sure are.”)_

Walt put a hand on Jesse’s head, grasping a handful of his soft blonde hair.  He used his grip to direct the intensity of Jesse’s mouth along his shaft, pulling on his partner’s hair as an indication to slow down or speed up the ministrations of his tongue, and pushing lightly on his head to urge him to go deeper.   Jesse had been well trained to Walt’s signals, and followed them flawlessly, allowing his partner to play his mouth like a perfectly tuned instrument.

_(“...Anything to say about that?”_

_“Yeah.  You’re seriously disturbed.”)_

Walt played with Jesse’s mouth until he was on the brink of coming, then abruptly withdrew.  Caught hold of Jesse’s upper arms and tossed him lightly back down on the bed.  “Turn over and get up on your hands and knees,” he said, softly.  Jesse complied.

Walt patted the upraised, firm white bottom, then reached around Jesse to retrieve a tube of lubricant from the bedside table.   He squeezed the lubricant generously over his cock, and then, going up on his own knees, entered Jesse carefully, feeling the kid’s tight little anus close around him with a firm, velvety grip. 

_(“Mr. White, really.  Was that necessary?”_

_“Yes.  Anyway, stop interrupting me, we’re getting to the good part.”)_

Hands on Jesse’s hips, Walt started thrusting, his cock entering Jesse slickly, quickly finding and rubbing the sensitive internal gland, deep inside.  Jesse arched his back, pressing his bottom against Walt, losing himself in the intense sensation.  His head was back, tossing, reminding Walt of a thoroughbred race horse, driven hard by his rider to the finish line.

_(“Thanks a lot.”_

_“Sure.”)_

Walt felt the kid’s internal muscles shiver, tighten further around him.  Jesse was moaning, keening in pleasure, his abandoned, throaty voice like raw silk.  Walt reached around to grasp Jesse’s cock in his hand, fingers gripping the shaft, roughly thumbing him.  Jesse gasped, shoved himself against Walt’s hand, and came.  At this Walt felt his own orgasm surge through him, and he came strongly into Jesse’s ass, thrusting deeply in one final time.

Jesse collapsed down on the bed, eyes closed, breathing heavily.  His body was slick with sweat.  Walt lay down beside him, stroking him gently, as his own breaths started to slow.  He leaned forward, put his nose into Jesse’s damp hair and breathed him in, revelling in his salty, healthy smell, untainted for many months now by the smell of drugs or cigarette smoke.

_(“What, so I’m clean?”_

_“As a whistle.  And you don’t smoke anymore either.”_

_“Boy, this is a dream.”_

_“That’s a sad thing to say, Jesse.”)_

They lay quietly for a few minutes.   Then Walt stirred.  “We should get dinner.  What did Rosa leave us?”  Referring to their housekeeper.

“Chicken with rice.  And black bean sauce.”

“Sounds good.”  Walt got up.  Pulled on a pair of sweats, but didn’t bother with a shirt.  Jesse reclined on the bed, gazing up at him admiringly.

_(“ Admiringly?”_

_“Absolutely. You think I’m eye candy. What’s so funny?”)_

Walt turned to leave the bedroom, saying over his shoulder.  “I’ll go warm it up.  Don’t be long.”

He walked into their spacious kitchen and stopped in front of the long granite counter.   On its shiny surface was a dish, scattered with crumbs, and an emptied glass that had previously contained milk. Walt sighed, then went to the fridge, took out the covered dish of food and put it in the microwave.  Set the timer and turned it on.  Then he opened a kitchen drawer and retrieved a short handled wooden spoon.  Walked over to the dining room table, which Rosa had set before she left, and laid it beside Jesse’s plate.

Jesse ambled into the dining room, wearing shorts and a t-shirt.  He stopped dead when he saw the wooden spoon.  Called, “Mr. White?”

“Coming.”  Walt entered, carrying a bottle of white wine and two glasses.  Set them down on the table.  Glanced at Jesse.  “Did you wash your hands?”

“Yeah.”  Jesse was staring at the wooden spoon.  “What’d I do now?”

“The dishes on the counter.”

Jesse rolled his eyes.  “Oh man, just that?  I forgot okay?  It was no big deal.”

“How many times have I told you to put things away?”

“But—“

“More than once, I think.  Am I right?”

“Yes, but—“

“If I have to tell you something more than once, there are consequences.  What are the consequences Jesse?”

“I get a spanking.”  Jesse’s voice was subdued.

“That’s right.  We’ll take care of it after dinner.  Sit down.  It’s almost ready.  Do you want salad?”

“Um, yeah, thanks.”

Walt brought the food in and served himself and his partner.  Then they ate, Walt speaking casually about some equipment he was expecting for his lab at the university.  Jesse did his best to keep up his side of the conversation, his eyes occasionally wandering to the wooden spoon beside his plate.

They finished the meal.  Walt stood up.  “Help me clear?”

“Sure.”

They carried the dishes back to the kitchen and put them on the counter.  Walt turned to Jesse.  “I’ll take care of these later.  But first, we need to deal with you.”

Jesse looked down.  “Where do you want me?”

“In the living room.  You can bring the spoon in.”

Jesse turned back to the dining room to get it.  Walt walked into the living room and sat down on a chair.  Jesse entered the room, the wooden spoon in his hand.  His cheeks were flushed.

Walt patted his knee.   “Come over here.” 

Jesse slowly walked over to Walt, halted in front of him.   Walt held out his hand.  Jesse handed him the spoon, and then, at a gesture from Walt, carefully draped himself over Walt’s lap, face close to the floor, balancing himself on Walt’s knees. 

Walt raised Jesse’s t-shirt and pulled down his shorts, exposing his bottom.  Asked him.  “How many was it the last time?  For dishes, I mean.”

“Ten.”

“Ten.  Okay.  And what is the rule, if we have to do this again for the same thing?”

“You double it.”

“Very good.  Twenty then.”

“Mr. White, that seems like a lot.”

“If you argue, I can always add more.”

“No, I’m not arguing. I’m just observing.”

“Hmm.  Are you ready?”  

“…I’m ready.”

“Count for me, if you will.”  The spoon descended on Jesse’s bottom with a sharp smack.

Jesse gasped, winced. 

“Jesse?  I’m waiting.”

“ _One…_ ”

The spanking continued, briskly.

“…Twenty.”  Jesse’s voice was choked.  Walt laid down the spoon, put a hand on Jesse’s hot, reddened flesh. 

‘Very good.  And what do you say now?”

“Thank you, Mr. White.”

“You’re welcome.”  Walt indicated that Jesse should stand up.  The young man got to his feet.  His face was flushed, tears standing in his eyes.  He started to pull up his shorts.

Walt held up a hand.  “Not yet.”  He stood up, removed a dime from his pocket.  “Come over here.”  He walked over to a corner of the room, Jesse following somewhat awkwardly.

Walt placed the dime on the wall, at the height of Jesse’s chin.  He turned to his partner.  “Put your nose on that.”

Jesse sighed.  Then bent forward, carefully holding the dime against the wall with his nose. 

“Very good.”  Walt said.  “Now lift your shirt.  Keep it up.”

Jesse’s hands went to his back.  Lifted his shirt up, exposing his punished bottom. 

Walt patted him.  “Excellent.  Now stay like this while I deal with the kitchen.  And Jesse, what will happen if I come back and find that dime on the floor?”

“You’ll start the spanking from the beginning.”  Jesse’s voice was muffled.

“That’s right.  You _are_ learning.  With consistency, we’ll get there.   I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  Walt left the room.

When he returned, he observed his partner carefully.  Jesse was crouched in the same spot.  It didn’t appear that he had moved.  Walt admired the flush on Jesse’s bottom.  He went over and rubbed both cheeks.  “I think I’ve got the intensity about right.  Good colour and tone.  What do you think?”

Jesse swallowed.  “Yeah, it was about right.”

Walt plucked the dime away from the wall.  “You can pull up your shorts now.”

Jesse pulled up his shorts and straightened, rolling his neck back in relief.

Walt sat down on their broad, low couch.  Put his feet up on the matching ottoman and flicked on their large, flat screen TV with the remote control.  Patted the seat beside him.  “Come here.  Is there something you want to watch?”

Jesse came and sat beside Walt, putting his feet up as well.  Leaned against Walt's side and laid his head on his partner’s shoulder.  Walt put an arm around him.

_(Jesus, Mr. White, why are you so hard on me?”_

_“That’s what you need.”)_


	11. Chapter 11

Jesse was quiet, considering.  During Walt’s story, he had finished his second cigarette and the whiskey, and was now lying back down on the bed.  As Walt concluded, he turned on his side, his head resting against Walt’s stomach.  Eventually he spoke, his face burrowed against Walt’s shirt.  “So that's how you see me?  Some kind of...boy toy?”

“Some of the time.”

“But how about the rest of the time?  And what about all that time you’re still spending with your wife?  Am I alone, by myself in that big house in the middle of nowhere?  What am I supposed to do then?”

Walt sighed.  “Jesse, you asked me to describe some sort of fantasy life for myself.  Note the words: fantasy, for, myself.  I wasn’t attempting to make it fit with real life situations, or the real life you, or the real Skyler, for that matter, so very much.” 

Jesse was silent.  Then he pressed his face deeper into Walt’s shirt.  “Tell me more.”

“What?”

Jesse spoke into Walt’s stomach, his voice muffled.  “Tell me more about your life.  With me and the desert house and all of it.  I want to hear more.”

Walt looked down at his partner’s dark blonde head.   Jesse’s face was hidden against his side.   He stroked Jesse’s hair.  “What do you want to hear about?”

After a moment, Jesse answered.  “Whatever you want to tell me.”  His voice was a bit sad.

Walt continued stroking his hair, thinking.  “Alright,” he said, finally.  “Let me tell you about this…”

 

The Idyllic Life of Jesse, Walt, Skyler and Holly

Jesse was sitting by the pool at the desert house.  Walt’s five year old daughter Holly was perched on his lap.  She and Jesse were thumb wrestling.

“Gotcha!”  Jesse said, gently trapping Holly’s thumb under his.  She squealed, giggling, and attempted to struggle free.  Jesse held her thumb down a moment longer, then allowed her to pull away, and press her little thumb over his own.   He pretended to struggle with his own thumb.  “Oh my god, oh my god, she’s got me!  She’s _got me!_ ”  Holly was giggling madly.  “I gotchoo Jesse, I gotchoo!”

“You sure do, crumbcakes.”

“Let’s play again!”

“Okay.”

Concentrating on their game, they didn’t notice the woman walking up behind them.  Her hand came down to rest on Jesse’s shoulder.

“Who’s winning?”

Jesse tilted his head to rest his cheek against the soft hand.  “So far your daughter, a clean three out of three.  She’s the thumb wrestling champ.”

“Wow,” Skyler said.  “Did you hear that Holly?  You’re the thumb wrestling champion!”

“I know, mommy.  I rock!”

Skyler laughed and bent to kiss the top of her daughter’s blonde head.  “Yes you do baby.”  She turned her head, kissed Jesse on the lips, lingering.

“Mmm.  Let me take her.  You’ve got a phone call.”

Jesse’s eyes were closed, his face turned up to Skyler’s.  After a moment, said.  “Who is it?”

“Brian.”  Referring to their general manager, in Pasadena.

“Okay.  Here baby—“ he got to his feet, transferring Holly to Skyler.  “Go to mommy.”

“Can we play again later Jesse?”

“Sure.”

Jesse ran lightly back towards the house.  Entered its cool interior through the glass doors of the master bedroom, and made his way towards the large office he and Skyler shared.  The red light was blinking on his phone.  He picked it up.   “Hey Bri.”  Shortly was immersed in a conversation regarding some issues with their new laboratory and manufacturing facility in Suzhou, a foreign investment zone for high tech manufacturing, just outside of Shanghai.  Walter, Jesse and Skyler had decided, after a certain amount of reflection (and a great deal of research and hard work on Jesse’s part, including travelling back and forth from Suzhou for the better part of last year), to invest in a new plant in Asia rather than expanding their facility in Pasadena.  If all went as planned, Jesse would start the ground work for establishing an additional plant in Germany towards the latter half of next year.

Phone call over, Jesse flopped down on the leather couch near his desk.  He stared idly at the two clocks on the wall, representing the two different time zones of their business.  Soon there would be three clocks, including German time.  His mind drifted back to the events of the past four years.

It had taken some (often heated) negotiations between Jesse, Skyler and Walt to work out their respective roles in the company, once it was clear that its rip roaring start was not about to slow down.  As hoped for, Walter’s innovative work in proton radiography had revolutionized the micro-electronics technology market, with significant industrial applications within the fields of space, defence and medical-radiography.  Walter had been courted by a number of industry leaders, as well as NASA, but had decided ultimately that he wanted full end-to-end control of his own research, development and product implementation, and chose not to sell his ideas to, or become an employee, of another organization, however tempting the offer.

This had left Walt with a rapidly growing company to run, in addition to his primary interest, which was the continued refinement and development of new product technology through his lab research.  Here Jesse and Skyler had quickly proved invaluable, with Jesse heading up corporate logistics, operations and sales and Skyler managing the finances, long term investment management and HR.  The learning curve had been incredibly steep for all three of them and had led to some pitched battles as well as more than a few nail biting mistakes.  But they had persevered with their original vision, and it appeared so far that this was the right decision.

It had helped tremendously that they shared such great affection for each other.  Indeed, that affection had carried them through challenges that could have easily broken the company, and their newfound family, apart.

Walt had left his position at the University of New Mexico shortly after his first product’s initial success, and was now living and working full time in Pasadena, heading up his own research team.  He was an adjunct professor at Caltech, taking advantage of the close proximity of that university’s world class chemical laboratory facilities and the brainpower they attracted, but no longer actively teaching.   

Jesse and Skyler were both with him.

As he had promised Skyler, Walt had bought her a beach house near Santa Monica.  He had anticipated that she and Holly would spend most of their time there, but in fact, between the demands of the company and her close professional (and additional) relations with Jesse, she, Jesse and Walt had ended up sharing the large house near the Caltech campus most of the time, with the houses in Santa Monica and in the New Mexico desert acting as (occasionally very necessary) retreats. 

It was not uncommon for Jesse to fly himself, and one or the other (or both) of his partners to the desert house for a few days for a change of scenery, along with Holly and Rosa, who had become Holly’s beloved nanny.   He and Skyler had established a natural routine that allowed them to enjoy their time with each other and Holly, while putting in the hours and energy required by the business.  Jesse knew that Walt derived an intense, quiet enjoyment from watching he and Skyler together, whenever he took time off from the lab to spend with them.

_(“Mr. White, just so I have this straight…you’re letting me fuck your wife and run your business?”_

_“You’ve matured and you’re off drugs.  I trust you.”_

_“Okay…but seriously, your wife?”_

_“You didn’t want to be left alone did you?  So here’s your alternative.”_

_“…Uh huh.”)_

Jesse heard the pitter patter of feet in the hallway.  Then Holly bounced into the room and flung herself on top of his stomach.

“Oof.”

“Are you finished Jesse?  Can we play again?”

“Honey, I’m a little tired right now.  Can I take a break and we play later?”

“Can I take a break with you?”

“Sure.”

Holly arranged herself on top of Jesse’s chest.  He absently stroked her back.

Skyler entered the room.  “You two look comfortable.”

Jesse smiled at her.  “Come join us.”

Skyler walked over to the couch, paused by Jesse’s reclining head.  “Lift up.”

Jesse lifted his head up, creating space for her and she sat down.  Jesse settled his head in her lap.  Skyler leaned back against the couch, one hand stroking Jesse’s hair, the other laying between him and the soft warm weight of her daughter as she snuggled on top of Jesse’s chest.  She felt the rise and fall of Jesse’s breath, Holly’s breath, against her hand.  Everyone closed their eyes.

This was the sight that greeted Walt, when he returned from his trip into town.  The three drowsy blonde heads, close together on the couch.  He paused, taking it in.  Then he walked softly over and dropped a kiss on each head.  Three sets of blue eyes opened, looked at him.  Smiles.

“Daddy!” 

“Hi baby, hi sweethearts.”

Walt leaned over the couch and put his arms around his family.

***

Walt looked down at Jesse’s silent head.  “So what’d you think of that?”

Jesse’s eyes were closed.  Said, “I don’t know how you think this is possible.  Your wife hates my guts.  And she’s not my type, either.”

Walt thought about Skyler.  Not about her presently, with that line of worry permanently between her brows, but as she had been when he and she first met.  A tall, leggy, sassy woman, level blue eyes, taking no shit from nobody.  Sauntering up to Walt in the bedroom of their small apartment, grinning at him, laying a finger on his chest. 

Walt smoothed the backs of his fingers against Jesse’s nape, feeling the soft, downy hair.  “She might be more your type than you think.”

Jesse said, “So tell me how this miracle occurs.  How do your wife and I get together, develop this _great affection_ for each other?”

“Okay,”  Walt said.  “This is how it happened…” 

 

The Affectionate Relationship of Jesse Pinkman and Skyler White

Skyler was driving out to the desert house, enjoying the wide vista of the pale, dusty plains, with the harsh blue sky arching overhead.  The radio was blaring and she absently tapped her fingers against the steering wheel to the ragged sounds of Motley Crue.

She had a day off from Holly, leaving the toddler in the care of her sister Marie.   Walt wasn’t due back for a couple more days, this being the week that he spent the full Friday to Tuesday span with Jesse.   Working out a reasonable schedule for Walt to split his time between his family and his young lover had proved more complicated than a custody arrangement.  Which wasn’t surprising, since having Jesse in their lives was more or less like adopting a third child.

_(“I can’t stand her already.”_

_“Give her time.”)_

When Skyler had been told about Jesse, _ballistic_ had been a mild way to describe it.   She had been shocked, hurt, furious, humiliated and _scared_.  Scared for herself, Walter Jr. and Holly, and frightened for Walt.  That her husband of seventeen years would suddenly involve himself, not only in a dangerous, illegal drug business, but also with that lost, burnt out, drugged out criminal _junkie—“_

_(“Hey!”_

_“Can I help how the world sees you?”)_

-called into question her whole perception of her marriage and the man she'd married.  How was it possible that Walt, who she had slept beside every night, raised a child with, gone through so much with, what with Walter Jr.'s condition and Walt’s earlier periods of unemployment (Walt had a genius for alienating his employers and it had taken some time, and an ultimatum from her, before he settled into that unchallenging but secure highschool teaching job), this man, whom she had _trusted_ with her life and happiness –how was it possible that he could suddenly turn into this whole other person?  Capable of doing this to them, to their family, to _himself,_ to _her_?  His brush with cancer couldn’t explain all of it. 

_(“How do you know she’s thinking all that?”_

_“I know her.”)_

She had considered divorce, had almost turned Walt and Jesse in—

_(“Shit, really?  Mr. White, there’s no way you can tell her about any of this.”)_

 -but in the end, had not.  Had made the decision to…not.   Had accepted the situation.  Decided to work with it.

Skyler thought back to that distressing time.  She had planned to leave, in fact had actually been walking out the door.  And then there had been that conversation with Walt, over their dining room table.  He had laid out _stacks_ of money, on that table.  Hundreds of thousands of dollars.  More money than she had ever seen.  And he said, it was all for her.  If she would hear him out.

And that was the initial reason why she had stayed, honestly.  The money.  After years of financial struggle, seeing those high stacks of bills, well, they were…compelling.  

And then, like Walt said, there was the miracle of his cancer remission.  It looked like Walt had really beat his initial unpromising diagnosis, against incredible odds.  Did she want to be the one responsible for him spending those unexpected, re-claimed years in prison? 

And finally, there was Walt’s promise.  That he would get out of the meth business.  Sell his formula to his buyer and retire.  Give her half of his profits from the sale for her own. 

Walt described their lives, going forward.  Skyler would share in the profits of everything he made from his research.  From his true work, which he was finally able to return to, funded by the money from the meth business.   Walt had described what he had in mind, the incredible commercial potential of his ideas, their likelihood of revolutionizing several industries.  And now he finally had the opportunity to work on this, freely, not answerable to any employer.  Skyler watched his face as Walt spoke about his work and his plans for it.  This was the man she had fallen in love with. 

Walt elaborated on their new life.  Its limitless possibilities.  Raising Holly without financial worry.  Getting the best care money could buy for Walter Jr., sending him to the best schools.  Skyler having the freedom to do whatever she wanted to.  Travel.  A new house.  A place for her in Walt’s new business, running it, if she wanted to. 

Walt didn’t want her leaving.  He loved her.  He loved their family.  He didn’t want them to break apart.  He would do anything, anything, to keep her with him.  All she would have to do is not say anything.  Keep Walt’s secret.

But there was a catch.  He would do anything…except give up Jesse.   She would have to accept Jesse into their family.

Skyler looked at her husband, over the table piled high with money.  Asked, “So what if I don’t accept that?  What if I tell you and your little…boyfriend…to fuck off?”

Walt answered.  “I’ll still support you.  I’ll give you whatever you want, you and Junior and Holly.  I’ll see that you're taken care of for the rest of your lives.”  He walked around the table and put his hands on her shoulders.  He had tears in his eyes.  “But Skyler, please, I’m really hoping you’ll give this a try.  I love you.   You’re my wife.  I don’t want to lose you.”    

Skyler stared back at him.  “Your wife.  I see.  So what is Jesse, then, to you, that you can’t give him up?”

Walt looked down.  “Jesse is—I can’t really describe it.  But he’s important, Skyler.  I can’t leave him.”

“But you could leave me.  And Walt Jr. and Holly.”

“No –please Skyler.   I don’t want to leave any of you.  And you don’t want to leave either.  _You love me._   You've stood by me all this time.  _And this is our chance_.  To really have the life we’ve dreamed about.  All you have to do is say yes.”

“I never dreamed of a life that would include someone like Jesse.”

Walt took both her hands in his own.  “Jesse is part of our dream,” he said, quietly.  “We have led small lives, Skyler, cramped lives.  For years, we've been trapped in ourselves.  That’s about to open up.  And Jesse is part of that.  Please.  Trust me on this.”

Skyler felt the grasp of her husband’s strong warm hands.   She sighed.  “Let me meet him,” she said.

***

Skyler looked at Jesse who was sitting, slouched across her at the dining room table, a slight, delicately faced youth in a bundle of garish, oversized clothes, unshaven, with untidy blonde hair standing up randomly on his head.  Walt had cleared away the money, put it in a bag for her.   She and Jesse were both smoking, an ashtray between them.

_(“Your wife smokes?”_

_“She used to, in times of stress.  Figured I’d add that in.  Gives you something in common, other than me.”_

_“Great.”)_

Skyler exhaled.  “So.  What do you have to say for yourself?”

Jesse shook his head, looked down.  When he spoke, Skyler was struck by the raspy, throaty timbre of his voice.  A young man’s voice, but shaded, darkened.  “I don’t know Mrs. White.  I honestly don’t know what to say to you.  I didn’t ask for any of this to happen.”

“But now that it did, you’re not going anywhere.”

Jesse raised his eyes.  They were the bright, clear blue of the desert sky.  “I'll go away.  If you want.  I said that to Mr. White as well.”

“But you haven’t.  Because Walt wants you to stay.”

Jesse took a drag of his cigarette.  Exhaled, looked down.  “Yeah.”

“Jesse,” Skyler said.  “Look at me.”

Jesse met her eyes again. 

“Do you want to leave?”

Jesse swallowed.  Stared at Skyler.  His eyes were wide, raw.  “No.”  he whispered. 

Skyler considered him.  In her mind, Jesse had always been a threat, a cold, manipulative, junkie criminal who had enthralled her husband.  She had not expected this…waif.

_(“ Waif?  What’s that?”_

_“That’s you.”)_

“But if I asked you to leave.  To leave me and Walt alone.  To disappear.  To never contact Walt again.  You would do it?”

“Yes.”

“And what would you do, if you left, if you went away?”

Jesse was still staring at her.  His eyes filled with tears.  “I don’t know,” he said quietly.  Looked down, the tears falling. 

Skyler was silent.   This was the person who had helped make Walt these piles of money.  That had put Walt on the threshold of his life’s dream.  This child. 

Jesse’s face was bent, turned away from her.  She could see the shiny track of a tear on one cheek.  She sighed, stubbed out her cigarette.  “Okay,” she said finally.  “We’ll give this a try.”

Jesse looked up.

“But here are the conditions.   Firstly, you don’t live here.  You never come by here.   Whatever you and Walt do, I don’t want to see it.  I don’t want our neighbours seeing you, I don’t want Walter Jr. seeing you, I don’t want anyone to know you exist.”

Jesse was listening. 

“Secondly, when Walt is here with us, he’s here.  I don’t want you calling him, bothering us.  When he’s with you he’s with you.  When he’s with us, he’s with us.  We’ll figure out something fair, and you’ll stick with it.  Are you with me so far?”

Jesse was gazing at her.  He nodded.

“And finally, Jesse…”  Skyler’s voice was soft.  “If _I_ decide it’s time for you to go, you go.  No questions asked.  And you don’t say anything to Walt.  You just disappear.  Do we understand each other?”

Jesse took a final drag on his cigarette, put it out.  Looked back at Skyler.  They stared at each other silently. 

Eventually, Jesse nodded.

Skyler said, “I need to hear you say you understand.”

“I understand, Mrs. White.  I agree.”

Skyler got up.  She walked around the table, stopping in front of Jesse.  He looked up at her.  She said, “You’re a mess, aren’t you?”

Jesse smiled slightly, still looking at her.  “Yeah.”

“In over your head.”

Jesse stopped smiling, looked down.  “Yes,” he said quietly.

Skyler studied him a bit longer.  The bent, blonde, untidy head.  She put a hand on his shoulder.   Jesse glanced up, surprised.  Skyler was sighing, rolling her eyes.  “This is insane.  Anyway, I’m going to give Walt the good news that his life isn’t about to come to an end.  When I come back, I want you gone, do you hear?  You and Walt can regroup somewhere else.  Out of my sight.”

Jesse got up.  “Yes, Mrs. White.  Thanks.”  He left.

Skyler watched him go.  Shook her head.  Then turned to go to her husband, who was waiting nervously down the hall.

_(“Would she really tell me to go, without speaking to you?”_

_“Oh yes.”)_

Still reflecting on that time, Skyler turned onto the road that led to Walt and Jesse’s house. 

Things had worked out better than she had expected.  Walt had made piles of money from the sale of the meth business and as promised, had given half of it to her.  He was now deep into his research and spending countless hours at the university lab.  Somehow, he had gotten himself a teaching position there.  He had told Skyler that the results of his work were looking extremely promising and he was expecting things to really take off, any day now.

Jesse, as agreed, had kept himself out of sight.  With Walt working such long, irregular hours, the fact that he didn’t come home some nights wasn’t as unusual or noticeable as it might have been otherwise.  And when he was with her and their kids, he was…happy.  It was a nice change, after all those years of depression.   Walter Jr. graduated highschool with honours, and enrolled at the University of Southern California, in computer science.   She missed having him in the house, but had to admit, it made things easier, no longer having to hide or excuse her and Walt’s unusual living arrangements from their son.

Initially, she never saw or heard from Jesse.

Walt never mentioned him either, other than once, in passing.  Gazing at her significantly, he'd told Skyler he had finally convinced Jesse to stop smoking.  Skyler hadn’t been having a good day.  She turned to Walt, raised her eyebrows at him.  Blew a smoke ring in his direction.

But eventually, things loosened up.

Jesse, to give him credit, hadn’t created any trouble at all.  It was Walt who had difficulty figuring out how to share his time.  Skyler could see that he was uncomfortable leaving Jesse alone.

On one of the weekends Walt was with her, he had asked her to come with him, to the desert house, and spend the day out there.  He was concerned about Jesse being by himself all weekend.  Skyler had not been pleased, but had consented (and also, she was curious about the new house).  They drove out together, with Holly.

After his first shock, Jesse had been touchingly pleased to see her, and he was great with Holly.  They ended up having a surprisingly good day.  And Walt had been over the moon (she had made him pay for that later).  Jesse was looking well.  Walt said he was off drugs as well as the cigarettes, clean for the first time in years.

Skyler couldn’t remember how it had come about, but eventually she'd started driving out regularly with Holly to spend time with the two of them.   It relieved some pressure on Walt, but that wasn’t the real reason.  She was visiting Jesse.  She enjoyed his company.  They hung out together by the pool, went on walks with Holly through the pale desert grass, sometimes with Walt, sometimes not.  Jesse always seemed glad to see her.  She started to look forward to seeing his face light up, at the sight of her.  She didn’t quite understand it, but there it was.

When she arrived, with Holly in tow, Jesse would open the front door, smiling, and take Holly in his arms.  They would nuzzle each other, giggling.  He would usher Skyler in, get her settled, hover around her.  Tell her about his days.  He was keeping himself pretty busy.  Skyler wondered whether all that activity was partially to compensate for the time he spent by himself, when Walt was with her.

Walt was generally in the background, getting food and drinks, smiling, contributing occasionally to the conversation.  He and Jesse didn’t act like a couple.  He never touched Jesse in Skyler’s presence, indeed, was more affectionate with her, in his usual way.  Jesse and Walt could have been simply roommates in that gorgeous, remote house.

And Skyler got the feeling sometimes that Jesse was relieved when she showed up.   She found herself thinking about him, worrying about his wellbeing.  The kid was growing on her.

She hadn’t intended to visit them today, but with Marie taking Holly, and having the unexpected time free, she hadn’t felt like staying in.  A drive would be good.  And she felt like walking over the open land with Jesse, him showing her where they would put the landing strip in, for the plane.  She had called before she left, but no one had picked up.  Well, even if they weren’t home, it would be a nice drive.  She left a message saying she was coming.

Skyler drove up to the house.  Both Jesse and Walt were home, their cars in the driveway.

She parked behind them and rang the doorbell.  No answer. 

Skyler paused, then decided to look around the back, by the pool.  There was no one there.  She glanced through the wide glass doors of the master bedroom at the back of the house.  The room was empty, bed neatly made.  Well, maybe they were out for a walk.  She could wait.  She sat down in one of the pool chairs. 

There was a movement at the edge of her vision.  She turned, gazing through the glass doors to the bedroom.  She saw Walt come around a corner, and walk across the room.  He was bare to the waist, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants.  She was about to wave and call out, when something stopped her.

Walt was carrying a belt in his hand, the buckle end wrapped around his fist.

Skyler stopped, shrank back in the chair.  She watched Walt uncoil the belt from his hand, open a closet door, and hang it up.  Close the door.  Then he turned and walked out of sight.  She saw the bathroom lights turn on, behind the frosted glass of the bathroom window.  A shower running.

Skyler got up, walked quickly towards the glass doors.  Tried them.  They were open.  She let herself in.

She could hear Walt whistling in the shower.  Just like he did at home.  But then she heard something else.  A muffled moan.

Skyler hurried around the corner, in the direction she’d seen Walt come from.  She stopped short, appalled.

There was a door open, one that she had never noticed before.  The door led into a windowless, interior room.  At the far end of the room, Jesse was sagging on his feet, naked, his back to her, arms tethered over his head in leather cuffs, attached to a ring hanging from chains in the ceiling.   Jesse’s body was covered in broad red welts, over his back, buttocks and thighs.  His head was lowered between his shoulders.  His body was shaking with sobs.

Skyler ran towards him.  “Jesse!”

Jesse’s head came up.  He turned around.  Skyler stopped, staring.  Jesse was gagged, the bottom of his face enclosed in black leather straps, a black rubber ball blocking his mouth.  His eyes widened over the gag.  He shook his head.

Skyler reached around his head and undid the gag.  Jesse whispered frantically, “No, Mrs. White!  Put that back on!  Get out of here!”

“I’m not doing that.  What is this, Jesse?  What’s he doing to you?”  Skyler reached over his head, started fumbling with the leather cuffs.

“I’m being punished.  Don’t untie me!”

“Punished?  For what!”

“For disobeying one of his rules.  For forgetting.  Mrs. White, please, don’t do this.”

Skyler released him, lowered his arms, held his wrists in front of her, looking at the marks left by the cuffs.  “This is terrible.  I’m getting you out of here.  Where’s your clothes?”

Jesse’s face was twisted, his eyes tightly shut.  He spoke, through tears.  “No Mrs. White, please.  I can’t leave.  Please go away.”

Skyler put her arms around him.  “Jesse, whatever you think you have to put up with, that’s not the case.  You’re coming with me.  We’ll sort this out later.”  Jesse’s head had dropped onto her shoulder.

Skyler released him, then put an arm around his waist.  “Come on.  Let’s get your clothes.”

“What’s going on here?”  Walt was at the doorway.  He was freshly showered, dressed in jeans and a dark shirt.  “Skyler, what the hell are you doing here?”

Skyler turned on him.  “What are _you_ doing, Walt?” she hissed.  

“That’s none of your business.”  Walt said.  “You shouldn’t even be here.  Get out of here!”

“Oh, I’m going.”  Skyler said.  “And I’m taking Jesse with me.”

Walt stepped forward.  “You are not,” he said through set teeth.  “Jesse stays here.”

“No he doesn’t.”  Skyler said.  “I’m not leaving him here, with you like this.  What were you thinking Walt?  He’s just a kid.”

“He’s more than just a kid, and anyway, he’s _my_ kid.  Jesse belongs to me and I can do what I want with him.  Now get out of here!  And don’t come back here again.  I’ll see you at home.”

Skyler paced towards her husband, her eyes blazing.  “I am not leaving him here,” she bit out.  “You have a pretty cozy arrangement for yourself, Walt.  Me in town, Jesse out here.  Everybody doing what you want.  You want that to end?  I’m taking Jesse with me right now and you’re not going to say one more word about it.  Come on Jesse.”  She turned to Jesse, took his hand.

Jesse looked at Walt.  Walt looked back.  Shrugged, gestured for Jesse to go.  Jesse followed Skyler silently. 

Skyler was in the bedroom, opening drawers.  “Where’re your clothes?”

“I’ll get them, Mrs. White.”

“Okay.  Hurry now.”  Walt had entered the bedroom.  Skyler turned to face him with her hands on her hips, daring him to say anything.  Walt spread his arms in a gesture of surrender.

She and Jesse left.

_(“Boy, Mr. White, does she really have you by the balls like that?”_

_“Yep.”_

_“I am starting to like her more.”)_

Jesse and Skyler were silent on the drive back to town.  Jesse was slumped in the passenger seat.  Skyler was thinking.  Asked Jesse, “Has it always been like this?”

“Like what?”  His voice was low, exhausted.

“You allowing him to do things like that to you.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I'm not sure. Because I need it, I guess.  Keeps me straight.”

Skyler shook her head.

***

Dusk was falling.  

Jesse and Skyler were back at Walt and Skyler’s home.   Skyler gestured to the couch.  “Go lie down.  I’ll get us something to eat.”

Jesse was looking around.  Mr. White’s other life.  He eased himself carefully onto the couch.  Skyler covered him with an afghan.  He closed his eyes.

Later she brought him a plate of food.  Macaroni and cheese, with vegetables.  “No, don’t get up.  You can eat there.”  She sat down in a chair across from him with her own plate.  They both ate silently, plates balanced on their laps.

Skyler was getting ready to go.  “I need to pick up Holly.  Will you be okay here?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be back soon.”  She left.

Jesse flicked on the TV.  He stared at the screen, unseeing.  Something had changed, but he didn’t know what, yet.  He wondered when Mr. White was going to show up.  He couldn’t imagine his partner staying away long.

Skyler was back, with the toddler.  Holly’s eyes lit up when she saw Jesse on the couch.  “Jesse!”

“Hi baby!”  Jesse held out his arms.  Skyler put Holly onto his stomach and went to take off her coat.  Jesse jounced her. “Oh, you’re such a big girl now!”   Holly giggled.  

Skyler said, “It’s time you were in bed.”  She picked Holly up.  Looked at Jesse.  “I’ll be back after I put her to bed.  How are you feeling now?”

“Okay.”

“Is there anything we should do, you know…for the welts?”

“Mr. White usually puts stuff on me, after.”

Skyler’s lips tightened.  “Mr. White.  Well `Mr. White’ can go to hell.  I’ll see what we have.”  She turned left the room, holding Holly. 

Jesse started to doze. 

He woke up again, abruptly, conscious of someone near him.  He opened his eyes.  Mrs. White was standing in front of him, a tube of ointment in her hand.  “This is for sunburn,” she said.  “It should make you feel better.”

Jesse sat up, took the tube from her.  They looked at each other briefly. 

Skyler dropped her eyes.  “I’ll put it on your back.” She said.  “You can do the…rest.”  She sat down beside Jesse on the couch.  Took the tube of ointment back from him, squeezed some on her fingers.  “Can you lift up your shirt?”

Jesse complied.  Skyler stared at the raised red marks left by the belt.  “He hit you pretty hard.”

“Yeah.”

She started to rub the cold, soothing lotion onto Jesse’s back.  Jesse dropped his head, closed his eyes.

That's how Walt found them, sitting there, when he came into the room.

He walked over to the couch and stood in front of his wife and Jesse, hands in the pockets of his jacket.  “Well this is cozy.”  Two sets of blue eyes stared up at him.

Walt said, “This has gone on long enough.   Jesse, you’re coming with me.  Let’s go.”

Skyler put a hand protectively on Jesse’s leg.  “He’s not going anywhere, Walt.”

Walt shook his head at her.  “What are you doing Skyler?  Adopting him?  Jesse, let’s go.”

Jesse made to get up.  Skyler forestalled him.  “No.  Walt, what are you going to do him?”

“Nothing more than he can take.  He knows that.  And it’s none of your business anyway.   Come on Jesse.  Up.”

Skyler glared at her husband.  “Don’t talk to him like that.  He’s not a dog.  Jesse, you don’t have to go anywhere.”

Jesse wasn’t looking at her.  “It’s okay Mrs. White.”  He stood up, wincing.  Skyler stood up too.  Looked at Jesse, distressed.  “Don’t call me Mrs. White anymore.  It’s ridiculous.  My name is Skyler.   And this is Walt.  I’ve never heard you call him by his name.”

Jesse looked at Walt.  Then glanced back at her.  “Thanks for dinner…Skyler.”  He turned to go.

Walt stared silently at the two of them.  Then he said, “When we get back, Jesse, I’m starting that whipping over from the beginning.”

Skyler’s mouth dropped open.  “Walt!”

Walt looked at her.  “What?  He knows the drill.  He’s supposed to stay where he is and think about his punishment, afterwards.  If he moves before I release him, it starts from the beginning.”

“But Walt, it wasn’t him that moved, it was me!  I undid him!”

 “So what?  He could have said no.”

“He did!”

“I never heard him say anything.”

Jesse’s head was lowered.  Skyler could see how still he was holding his body, like he was trying to keep himself from flying apart.  She put an arm around him.  “He’s not leaving this house.  You bastard!”

“Oh yes he is.  The longer we take, the harder it will be on him.  Let’s go Jesse.”  Walt put a hand on Jesse’s arm.

Skyler tightened her grip on him.  “No!”

Walt paused, looked at her.  “You’re awfully protective of him.”

“Of course I am!  You should hear yourself!”

“Tell you what, Skyler.”  Walt said.  “I’ll make you a trade.  You fuck him for me, and I won’t whip him a second time, tonight.”

“ _What?_ ”

Walt smiled.  “I’ve been wanting to see the two of you together.  And it doesn’t seem that you're so opposed to him now.  You certainly drive out to see him enough.”

“Walt, how can you ask that of me?  It’s degrading.”

Walt shrugged.  “It’s your choice, Skyler.  Otherwise we need to get going, so Jesse can take his punishment and we can get to bed.  I need to get _some_ sleep tonight.” 

He waited.  “Nothing to say?  Okay.  Come on Jesse.  Say goodbye.”

Jesse looked up, met Skyler’s eyes.  “Goodbye Skyler.” 

Skyler stared back.  In the dim light of the room, Jesse’s eyes were the dark, deep blue of a lake at sunset.  His finely drawn face was tired.  She closed her eyes.  They were leaving.

Skyler said.  “Wait.”

They turned.  Jesse's eyes were on her.  She stared back at him.  Holding his gaze, she directed her words to her husband.  “Yes.”

“What?”

“I’ll do it.”

Walt smiled, stepped towards her.  Skyler held up a hand.  She was still staring at Jesse.  “But you don’t get to watch.”

Walt looked at her, opened his mouth to say something, and then shrugged.  “Fine.  You can have your way.  This time.”

Skyler ignored him.  She opened her hand to Jesse.  “Come with me Jesse.”

Walt said to her.  “I’ll be back tomorrow morning to pick him up.”

Jesse looked quickly at Walt.  Walt was staring off into the distance.  He didn’t meet Jesse’s eyes.  After another glance at Walt, Jesse followed Skyler down the long corridor, to the bedroom.

“Close the door.”  Skyler’s voice.

Jesse closed the door behind him. 

Skyler was standing in front of the bureau, taking off her earrings.  She looked at Jesse through the bureau mirror.  “You don’t have to fuck me.  All you have to do is get a good night’s sleep.”

“But Mr. White –he’ll know…”

“ _Walt_ won’t know squat.  Let me get you something to sleep in.”  She rummaged through the bureau drawers, pulled out a pair of men’s pajama bottoms and a t-shirt.   “Here. These should do.”  She handed Walt’s clothes to Jesse.  He took them silently, eyes on her.  Skyler looked back at him a moment.  “I’m changing in the bathroom.  Once I’m sure the coast is clear, I’ll put you in Walter Jr.'s room for the night.  Okay?”  She turned to go.

Jesse stared at her.  He saw Skyler again in his mind’s eye, spitting fiercely at Mr. White in his defence, Mr. White backing down.  He saw her holding Holly, her arms softly curving around the little girl, her face tender.  He saw Skyler smiling at him, laughing with him.  Walking beside him in the desert grass, her relaxed, long legged, sauntering stride. 

Laying a hand on his shoulder.  Forgiving him. 

Jesse put a hand on her arm.  “Skyler—“

Skyler turned.  Jesse looked at her gravely.  He reached out his other hand, clasping both her arms.  Turned her to him.  “Thank you.”  He hesitated, then kissed her.

Skyler started to step away.   Jesse’s hands tightened on her arms, halting her.  She shook her head at him.  “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.”  He kissed her again.

Skyler stood still under his mouth.  She realized that Jesse was actually slightly taller than her.  She had always thought of Jesse as slight, rather small, in comparison to her taller, heavier husband.  But in fact, he was about her size, with a strong, slim build.  Jesse’s hands were warm and firm on her arms. 

“Jesse, I don’t know whether _I_ want to do this.”

His lips were on her mouth.  “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

Skyler said, “I don’t get it.  Aren’t you gay?”

Jesse laughed.  “No.  I’ve never been with a man before Mr. White.  Before that it was all girls.  Women.”

“So what’s this thing with Walt?”

“Damned if I know.”  Jesse kissed her again.

Jesse mouth was insistent, drugging.  He slipped his tongue between her lips.  Skyler felt her eyes fluttering shut.  “Jesse.  Why are you doing this?”

“I’ve been wanting to.  _(Skyler’s level blue eyes, appraising him.  Her cool, often cynical expression, at odds with that shapely, soft mouth.  Her full breasts, long legs)_ I just haven’t had the opportunity.   And I thought you'd probably scream and run.”

“I still might.”

She felt Jesse smile against her mouth.  Then his hand went to her breast, sliding into the open neckline of her shirt.  He cupped her breast in his hand.  Rubbed his thumb over her nipple, which hardened underneath the smooth silk of her bra.   His mouth moved to her throat, against her pulse, fluttering.  He tugged on her shirt, whispered.  “Take this off.”  Kissed her mouth again.

Skyler’s breath was speeding up.  She undid her shirt, shrugged it off.   

Jesse’s hands went to her shoulders, stroking.  Then he reached behind her, swiftly undid her bra.  Slid it off her arms. 

Skyler smiled.  “That was smooth.”

Jesse smiled back.  “I’ve had a lot of practice.”  His hands went to her breasts.  They were large and warm, a soft weight in his hands.  He bent his head and drew a nipple into his mouth, his tongue hard against it, fluttering.

Skyler’s head was thrown back.  Jesse’s mouth went to her other breast.  She clasped a hand against his head. 

Jesse raised his head, looked at her.  He put both hands on the sides of her face and kissed her, harder this time, his tongue exploring her mouth.  Skyler was kissing him back, mouth opening against his lips.  Jesse ran his hands over her soft skin.  “Come on, let’s lie down,” he whispered.  He pushed her gently towards the bed.

Skyler lay down, Jesse coming with her.  His hands went to the waistband of her pants.  Undid them.  “Lift up.”  Skyler lifted up her bottom.  Jesse slid her pants and panties down her legs, drew them off.   Then ran his hands up along her silky white thighs.  Looked at her neatly waxed and shaven pussy.

_(“Waxed and shaven?”_

_“With regularity.”_

_“Wow.  Your wife is pretty hot, Mr. White.”_

_“Yes, she is.”)_

Jesse buried his face between her legs.  Felt the shaven hairs prickle against his skin.  “Open up.”  Skyler parted her legs. 

Jesse slid his tongue between the lips of her pussy, finding her clit.  Jabbed his tongue hard against her.   Skyler moaned, her back arching.  Jesse took her clit gently between his teeth, nibbling.  Jabbed his tongue against her again, and then rolled it around, sucking back against the sensitive flesh.  Skyler was motionless, caught, her hands pressed against Jesse’s head.  After a moment,  Jesse sat back, dipped two fingers into her.   Pushed his fingers deep inside, then ran his thumb upwards along the slick centre of her pussy, towards her clit.  Pressed firmly down on it, rubbing. 

“Oh my god,” Skyler whispered.   She opened her eyes, looked at Jesse.  He was staring down at her, his blue gaze intense, almost cold.  He pulled off his shirt, baring his lean torso.  Tossed it aside.  His pale skin gleamed in the lamplight.  He stood up, undid his pants, stepped out of them.  Pulled off his shorts. 

Skyler gazed at him.  Jesse had a beautiful body, slender, but finely muscled, with a straight, graceful posture.  His erect cock.  Jesse was staring back at her.  He climbed slowly, deliberately onto the bed, leaning over her.  Still looking at her, he put a hand on his cock and guided himself into her with one smooth thrust.  Felt the smooth, hot flesh close over him.  Skyler gasped, closed her eyes.  Jesse put his hands down on the bed on either side of her, balancing himself.  Started to thrust into her, not gently, his cock stabbing deep. 

Skyler was moaning.  She brought her legs up, clasped them around Jesse’s waist.  Jesse dipped his head against her, found her mouth, started kissing her, his tongue going deep into her mouth.  Skyler wrapped her arms around him, fiercely kissing him back.  She pressed her breasts against his chest.  Jesse felt his orgasm building.  He whispered to Skyler, “Come with me.”  Thrust hard against her, grinding.  “That’s it.  You can do it.”

Skyler was shaking, her body beaded with fine perspiration.  Jesse felt her smooth internal muscles tightening.  She froze momentarily, rigid, then started shuddering around him, a silent release of fluids bathing his cock.  “You did it,” he murmured to her.  “That’s good.”  He thrust again, very hard, one more time. Then his pleasure rushed through him in a tide, and he came, deeply, feeling himself release inside her.

Jesse lay collapsed on top of Skyler, his face buried in her neck.  She was stroking him lightly, her hands gentle on the welted skin of his back.

“I’d forgotten all about these,” she said.  “Didn’t they hurt while you were, you know…”

“I’ve kind of gotten used to it.”  Jesse said. 

“How often does he do this?”

“Often enough.”

“Jesse.  Why do you let him?”

“I honestly don’t know.  It’s part of the thing we have together I guess.”

Skyler was silent, hands on his back.  Then said, “What you choose to do is up to you.  But if you’re going to be with me too, you’re going to have to start calling him Walt.  At least in front of me.  No more of this `Mr. White’ stuff.”

Jesse laughed.  “That’s going to be hard.  I think of him as Mr. White.“ 

“I know you do.  But when you’re with me, it’s Walt.  And Skyler.  Okay?”

Jesse raised himself on his hands, his face hovering above hers.  He was grinning.  “Okay.  _Skyler._ ”   He kissed her.   She grinned back.  Said to him.  “You’re pretty damn good.”

“I know.” 

“When do you think you’ll be up for seconds?”

“Oh I don’t know…pretty soon.  Encourage me.”

“Okay.”

They started kissing at each other again, laughing.

***

When Walt returned the next morning, he walked quietly down the hallway, towards his bedroom.  Opened the door.  Jesse and Skyler were sleeping soundly, arms curled around each other, the covers flung about in disarray.  Walt regarded the two blonde heads, so close together, for a moment. 

Then he turned, went back down the hall to the kitchen.  Started making breakfast.

 


	12. Chapter 12

“…and so that’s how it happened.”  Walt concluded. 

“We became, like, a threesome.”  Jesse said.

“Yes.  More or less.”

“And lived happily ever after.   With this revolutionary chemistry business that like, takes over the world.  That I run for you with your wife.”

“That’s right.”

“And we all live together.  One big happy family.”

“Most of the time.”

“You know, Mr. White, it’s kind of hard for me to see you being so _sharing.”_  

“Why is that?”

“Because…most men wouldn’t _want_ another man fucking their wife, that’s why!  Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?”

“I don’t really see it that way,” Walt said.

“No?  How do you see it then?”

“I love Skyler,” Walt said.  “I want her to be happy.  She’s my wife.  And if I wasn’t giving you up, why _wouldn’t_ I want her sharing you with me?  It would make things easier for everybody.”

Jesse turned his head.  Looked up at Walt.  After a moment, said, “I see.”   Disentangled himself from Walt and sat up, his face turned away.  

Walt glanced over at his partner’s silent back.  “See what?”

“I see what you wanted me to see.  How your mind works.”

Walt didn’t answer.  After a moment, he said, “Well, it’s just a story.”

“Yeah.”

Walt reached out and rubbed Jesse’s back.  “Come back here.”

Jesse looked back at him.  His eyes were cool.  “Why should I?” 

“Because I’m asking you too.”  Walt replied. 

Jesse’s gaze sharpened.  “You like that, don’t you,” he said.  “That I just do what you ask.”

Walt smiled at him.  “Indeed I do.”  He reached for Jesse again.

Jesse batted his hand away.  “Well, fuck you, man.”

Walt stopped smiling.  “Don’t say that to me.”

Jesse leaned forward, put his face close to Walt's.  “Mr. White,” he said distinctly.  “Fuck… _you._ ” 

Walt looked at Jesse for a moment.  Then slapped him hard across the face.

Jesse stared at him, eyes wide.  His hand went to his stinging cheek. 

Walt’s face twisted.  He reached out to Jesse, putting a hand on his arm.  “I’m sorry—“

Jesse jerked out of his grasp.  “No you’re not.”  His voice was scathing.  “You don’t think there’s anything wrong with hitting me if I 'get out of line.'  You’ve made that very clear.”

Walt considered him.  Eventually nodded.  “You’re right,” he said.  “And you know that about me, and… you do it anyway.  Which leads me to conclude that you’re asking for it.  Correct?”

Jesse felt himself flushing with anger.  He said to his partner, his voice shaking.  “In your story.  Mr. White?  You had your wife say to me, `If I ask you to go, you go.  No questions asked.  You just disappear.’  That’s _you._   That’s _you_ , saying that to me.  You _want_ that convenient out for yourself.  In case I become too much to handle, right?  I do what I’m told or I can get lost.  Well guess what?  I _can_ disappear.   You’re not the only one who can leave.”

Walt regarded him silently. Then his eyes narrowed. He grabbed Jesse by the wrists and dragged him back down on the bed, pinning him.  “You’re not going anywhere,” he bit out.

Jesse glared up at him, eyes blazing.  “Why shouldn’t I?”  he spat.   “What reason do I have to stick around?”

Walt was suddenly furious.  Jesse leaving.  Was he actually threatening him?  

“You want a reason?”  He bent and kissed Jesse hard on the lips.  “You're mine now, remember?  Mine.  You stay because of that.  That’s all the reason you need.” 

Jesse pushed against Walt's hands. Walt tightened his fingers painfully around Jesse's wrists, then lowered his weight on top of him, trapping Jesse against the bed.  He stared his partner's defiant face.  When had he last felt so angry?  Only with Jesse.  The kid did this to him.  Infuriating brat. Goddamn him. 

Walt kissed Jesse again, without tenderness.  Jesse had clenched his teeth, denying him access. Walt ran his tongue over Jesse’s sealed lips.  Then he thrust his cock into Jesse’s groin, felt the hardness there.  A shock of pleasure ran through his body.  At the same time he saw Jesse's eyes close slightly.

“And you know it too.”  Walt said to him roughly.  “You _know_ you’re mine.  You just want reminding.  _That’s_ what you’re asking for.”  Walt thrust his cock against Jesse again.  Felt him shudder.  “Yes,” Walt whispered.  “You know it.”

Jesse opened his mouth, his breath shaking.  Walt took advantage ruthlessly, kissing him again, his tongue jabbing in deeply.  Jesse made a muffled sound of protest.  Walt raised his head.  He put his hand over Jesse's mouth.  Met Jesse’s wide eyes.  “Shut up.” Walt said briefly.  "I've heard enough out of you."  Then, shifting himself to get some leverage, he grabbed the waistband of Jesse’s shorts and dragged them roughly down, scraping them against Jesse’s abraded bottom. 

“Ouch!  Mr. White, please—“

“What?  You think I’m sorry?" Walt asked him.  "I’m not sorry.  This is mine—“ his hand clamped down painfully on Jesse's bottom, “—and I’ll mark it any way I want.”  Jesse winced, turning his face away.  Walt grabbed his chin again.  “Don’t turn away from me.  You don’t move unless I tell you to.  _Look at me!_ ”  His voice was harsh.

Jesse froze, his eyes fixed on his partner.  “That’s it.”  Walt said.  He was still furious.  “Those big blue eyes.  Keep them on me.”  His hand went to Jesse’s cock, lightly stroking its erect length.  “ _This_ knows it’s mine, doesn’t it?  Your cock knows who it belongs to.”  He moved his hand up and down.  Jesse’s eyes started to close again.  Walt’s hand tightened painfully.  “ _No!  Look at me_!”  Jesse’s eyes came back to his, agonized.  They started to glisten with tears. 

“Yes,” said Walt.  “You can cry. I don’t mind.  I love your tears.” 

He undressed.  Removed a tube of lubricant from the nightstand drawer and squeezed it generously over himself.  Jesse lay silently on the bed, still staring at him.  Walt knelt between Jesse’s legs.    “Put your legs up over your head.”  he said.  “I’m taking you on your back.”

Jesse stared.  Then shook his head silently, his eyes pleading.  “Is that arguing?”  Walt asked.  “Are you asking to be marked up some more?  Do it!”

Jesse closed his eyes, in spite of himself.  Then he slowly raised his legs.  Walt looked at him.  “Beautiful.”  he said, softly.  He grabbed Jesse’s legs, spreading them wider.  “That’s it.  Open for me.”  He pressed his thumb against Jesse’s anus, felt the dark flesh pucker.  Then positioning himself carefully, he pushed in.  

Jesse's head rolled back. His eyes remained closed, breath hissing between his teeth.  Leaning forward, Walt started thrusting into him with a hard, pounding rhythm, his lubricated cock deep inside Jesse's body, moving slickly back and forth. 

Jesse’s face contorted. He began moaning, keening helplessly, his voice raw. 

Walt watched him, rapt.  Jesse’s beautiful face was flushed, his eyes tightly closed, long lashes in crescents on his cheeks.  He was moaning raggedly.  A flash of pink tongue.  Walt leaned forward and covered Jesse’s mouth with his own.  He thrust harder, faster, his belly rubbing against Jesse’s cock. 

Walt felt his partner start to shudder.  “Jesse,” he whispered.  “You belong to me.  _Say it!_ ”

“I belong to you.”  Jesse’s voice was strained, barely audible.

“You’re not going anywhere.”  Walt said to him.

“No.”

“Put your arms around me.”

Jesse’s arms clasped him.  He raised his mouth.  Walt kissed him, thrust deep into him, felt himself coming.  Jesse was shuddering uncontrollably, his arms tightening around Walt, his cock spurting against Walt’s belly.  Walt released into Jesse, felt the warm fluids pumping into him.  “ _Beautiful.  You’re beautiful,_ ” he whispered.  Raised his head to look at Jesse’s face.  Jesse had turned his head to the side.  Walt could see the track of a tear along his cheek.

***

Walt lay on top of Jesse, his face against Jesse's neck.   Both of them were breathing hard.  Jesse’s arms were still clasped around him.  Walt could feel Jesse’s chest, rising and falling against him. 

“Mr. White, you’re heavy.”  Jesse said.

Walt rolled over onto his back.  He kept his arms around Jesse, taking him with him, so that the younger man ended up partially sprawled across his body.  Jesse turned and buried his face against Walt’s throat.

Walt closed his eyes, holding him.  “I’m not letting you go,” he said to his partner, quietly.  “You’re staying with me till the very end.  Whatever that is.”  He felt Jesse take a shaky breath. 

Then Jesse said.  “But what if I want to go?  What if I ask?”

Walt sighed. “If you ask, I will punish you,” he said. 

He felt Jesse’s head dip down against his throat.  Walt turned, pressed a kiss into his hair.   “Never ask me,” he whispered.


	13. Chapter 13

Jesse heard Mr. White’s words from somewhat of a distance. 

His face was pressed against Mr. White’s throat, the slowing beat of Mr. White’s pulse against his cheek.  Jesse breathed in the familiar smell of laundry soap combined with the earthy, musky scent that was Mr. White.   He felt Mr. White’s lips in his hair. 

Jesse thought about how Mr. White had looked at him when they'd been yelling at each other.  His brows, sharply angled on his roughly hewn face.  Green eyes narrow, their normally slightly cold expression replaced with a blazing anger.  His body tense, the muscles hard with latent strength.  A brutal strength, unleashing against Jesse like a thunderstorm.

And now quiet.  Mr. White a solid, warm weight beneath him, quietly breathing.  His arms holding Jesse, embracing him protectively.

Jesse leaned in closer, his head nestled against Mr. White’s throat.  He felt his breath warm on Mr. White’s skin.  He curled his arms around his partner. 

Mr. White started stroking him, slow, smoothing strokes over Jesse’s body. 

Jesse felt exhaustion wash over him.  He was depleted by the rollercoaster of emotions from the past couple of days, at a slight remove from himself.   He lay passively, drifting languidly under the mild sensation of Mr. White’s hands on his skin. 

Mr. White’s face was in his hair again.  Jesse couldn’t be sure, but it seemed that Mr. White was _smelling_ him, his nose buried against Jesse’s head.  He did that a lot.   Jesse smiled against Mr. White’s throat.

Mr. White felt the movement.  “What’s so funny?”

“You are.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jesse felt Mr. White take a deeper breath, press his cheek against Jesse’s head.  “You’re not mad at me anymore?”  he asked.

Jesse was silent. 

Mr. White’s lips were in Jesse’s hair.  “Jesse?”

Jesse sighed.  “Not at the moment,” he said.

Mr. White didn’t say anything. Then he put his hands gently on Jesse’s shoulders, turning him to lie on his back.  Jesse looked up at his partner’s face.  Mr. White’s green eyes were thoughtful, his pensive expression somewhat at odds with his harsh features.   “Let me kiss you again.” he said.

Jesse gazed up at him.  He lifted his mouth. 

Mr. White smiled slightly at him.  He bent down, touched Jesse’s lips with his own.  Then again.  Jesse felt his partner’s moustache graze his upper lip.  Mr. White brushed his lips slowly back and forth.  Kissed Jesse again, taking his time.  Raised his head.  Jesse looked at him quietly.

“I love kissing you.”  Mr. White said.  “I could kiss you all day.”

Jesse snorted.  “You have been.”

Mr. White grinned at him, green eyes crinkling.  A flash of white teeth.  “You’re right.  We’ve been at this all day, practically.  Haven’t we?”

“Pretty much.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve spent the whole day in bed with someone.”

Jesse shook his head slightly, looked away.

Mr. White was kissing him again.  Jesse closed his eyes.  Mr. White stroked the side of his cheek, then trailed his fingers down Jesse’s throat.  He ran his fingers over Jesse’s chest, lightly circled a nipple.  “You have a beautiful body.”

“Thanks.”

Mr. White kissed his throat, then laid his head against Jesse’s chest.  Jesse frowned at the sensation of his former teacher’s bald, warm, prickly head, resting on him.  “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying you.”

After a moment, Jesse ran the palm of his hand over Mr. White’s scalp.  Said, “I can’t get over you without hair.”

“Like it?”

“Kind of.  Yeah.”

Mr. White was quiet.  He rested somewhat heavily on Jesse, one arm lying across him.  Jesse ran his hands over Mr. White’s back, taking in the velvety feel of his skin, the firm muscles underneath.  Mr. White’s eyes were closed.  Jesse stroked the back of his neck.

They were silent for awhile.   Mr. White appeared to have fallen asleep, his breathing calm and even.   Jesse’s hands stilled on Mr. White’s body.  He let himself drift off.

***

Jesse opened his eyes.  The light seeping into the bedroom was less bright, its angle changed.  Time had passed.

Mr. White was still pressed against him.  His head was laying on Jesse, a warm weight.

“Mr. White?”  Jesse said softly.

No response.

Jesse touched his partner’s body, fingers brushing him lightly.  “Mr. White?”

The man moved slightly but didn’t answer.  Settled down again.

Jesse waited a little longer.  Then tugged on one of Mr. White's ears.

“Mr. _White_ …”

“Hmm.”  A low rumble.

“I’m kind of hungry,” Jesse said.

After a moment, Mr. White raised his head, a wry look.  “Is that a request?”

Jesse smiled at him.  “Yeah.”

“What do you feel like?”

“I dunno, something.  Lunch.”

“Okay…fine.  I’ll put something together.  You want to come down?”

“No.”

“Alright.  I’ll bring it up to you.”  Mr. White untangled himself from Jesse, levered himself off the bed.  Looked down at Jesse for a moment.  Then bent and ruffled his hair.  “You.”  Mr. White said to him.  He turned and padded downstairs to the kitchen, without bothering to dress.

Jesse lay looking up at the ceiling.  His whole body was worn, sticky, sweaty.  Sore.  Despite his words to Mr. White earlier that day, he did feel in dire need of a shower.  He got up and made his way to the bathroom.  Walt, cutting bread in the kitchen, heard the water go on.  He smiled, picked up a butter knife.

Walt returned to the bedroom a little while later, carrying a tray with sandwiches, a plate of vegetable slices, a thermos of coffee and two bottles of beer.  Jesse was sprawled on the bed, head propped up against the pillows, fully clothed in a baggy sweatshirt, t-shirt and jeans, white athletic socks on his feet.  He’d opened the bedroom curtains, the late afternoon light spilling into the room.  He was reading a paperback book. 

“What’re you reading?”  Walt asked.

“The Spy Who Came in from the Cold.”

“Oh.  John le Carré.  I didn’t know you read.  Books I mean.”

“Thanks, asshole.”

Walt grinned, put the tray down on the bed.  Looked at his partner more closely.

“Hey, you shaved!”

Jesse glanced at him briefly.  “Yeah.  So?”  His eyes were back on his book.

Walt found himself smiling broadly.  “Nothing.  It looks good on you.”  He sat down on the bed next to Jesse, ran the backs of his fingers along the younger man’s smooth cheek.

Jesse twisted his face away, shot Walt an annoyed look.  “Stop that man.”

“Sorry.  Here, I brought lunch.”

Jesse put his book down, looked at the tray of food.  “Hey great, thanks.”  He scooched over to sit cross legged by the sandwiches, picked one up.  Walt picked up the other one.  Both ate silently. 

Jesse looked at his naked partner.  “Aren’t you going to get dressed?”

“Later.  I want to shower again.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, kept eating.  Walt opened the bottles of beer, handed one to Jesse.   They drank.

“How’re you feeling now?”  Walt asked.

“I’m okay.”

“I’m sorry I hit you so hard last night.”  Walt said quietly.

Jesse looked at him.  “Does that mean you’re not doing it again?”

“No.  That means I’ll be more careful, next time.”

“Oh.  Practice makes perfect.  Is that it?”

“Something like that.”

Jesse didn’t answer.  Crunched on a celery stick.  Took a swallow of beer. 

Walt regarded him silently.

Jesse put down his food.  Stared back at his partner.  “What?”

Walt shrugged, shook his head.  “Nothing.  I just like looking at you, is all.”

Jesse sighed, dropped his eyes.  “You know, Mr. White, you’re kind of exhausting.”

Walt smiled.  “I know.  My wife says the same thing.”

Jesse shot him a look. 

Walt unscrewed the cap of the thermos, pouring steaming coffee into it.  “I forgot to bring cups.  Do you want some of this?”

“Later.” 

“Okay.”

“You know, Mr. White, in your story, you had your wife rescue me from some sort of hidden room.  What was that all about?”

“Well, my dream house would have to include some sort of dungeon, for you.”

Jesse laughed, incredulously.  “What?”

Walt raised an eyebrow at him.  “In my ideal life I'd keep you locked away.  I’d let you out once in awhile, to feed you.  And for sex.”

“You’re kidding.  Right?”

“Am I?”

Jesse shook his head.  “I guess I really don’t know.  I really don’t know how far you’ll go.  Do you?”

Walt looked down.  “I don’t know anymore,” he said quietly.

Jesse gazed at him thoughtfully. 

Walt looked up again, met Jesse’s eyes.  “I’m going to shower, get dressed.  I should start thinking about going.  You want any more of this?” Gestured at the food.

“No, I’m good.”

“Okay.  I’ll leave the coffee for you.”  Walt picked up the tray and left the room.

Jesse gazed absently after him.  He picked up his book again.  Put it down.  Poured himself a coffee from the thermos.  Picked up his pack of smokes, took out a cigarette, lit up.  Took a sip of coffee.  The hot liquid was bitter, black. 

***

Walt was back in the room, freshened up, dressed.

Jesse was smoking his second cigarette. 

“Do you mind if I open a window?”

Jesse shook his head.  Walt cranked open a window, turned back to look at his partner, on the bed. 

“You really were serious about spending the whole day on there.”

“Uh huh.”

Walt sat down beside him.  “I’ll get in touch with Tuco.  Set up the meet.  You’ll let me know about the RV?”

“Sure.”

Walt leaned forward and kissed Jesse briefly on the lips.  “I’ll call you as soon as the meet’s arranged.”  He ran his fingers over Jesse’s cheek again.  Smiled.

Jesse looked at him.  “Going?”

Walt stopped smiling.  “Yeah.  I told Skyler I’d be home in the evening.”

Jesse didn’t respond.  Looked away. 

Walt put a hand on his knee.  “I’m sorry, Jesse.”

Jesse leaned over, put out his cigarette.  “I’m not asking you to be sorry.”

Walt sighed.  “You’re asking me for something.  I can feel it.  What is it?”

Jesse returned his gaze.  “When you aren’t with me, when you’re with your family.  Or at the school.  How do you picture me, when you’re not with me?”

Walt shook his head.  “I don’t know what you mean.”

“What do you see me doing, when you’re not with me?”

Walt looked down. “I don’t know," he said.  "I haven’t really thought about it.  I don’t see you doing anything in particular.”

Jesse was nodding at him.  “That’s true, but that’s not quite it.  You have thought about it.  And I can tell you exactly what you’re seeing.”

Walt was quiet.

Jesse continued, staring at him.  “You’re seeing me in a locked room, like in that dungeon, in your story.  Locked away, in the dark.  Doing nothing.  Just waiting for you to come back.”

Walt continued silent.  Jesse’s eyes were fixed on him, a cold, bright blue. 

He said in a low voice, “That’s what you really want.  In that dream life of yours.  You were clear about that.  And you know what Mr. White?  It’s starting to come true.  I’m starting to be there.  In my mind.”

Walt’s face twisted.  He leaned forward, to put his lips against Jesse’s cheek.  Jesse drew back.

Walt straightened. “Jesse,” he said quietly.  “Tell me what you want.”

Jesse looked at him.  “Before you go, I want you to tell me another story,” he said.  “I want you to tell me about the dungeon.  In your dream house.”

Walt regarded his partner.  “Are you sure you want to hear about that?” he asked.

Jesse’s eyes were steady.  “Yes,” he said.  “I’d like to hear about it.”

Walt was quiet another moment.  Then he slipped off his shoes.  Sat back down on the bed.  “Come here,” he said to Jesse.  “Put your head in my lap.”

Jesse settled his head in Walt’s lap.  Looked up at him.  The blue eyes.  Walt stroked his forehead. 

“Okay,” he began.  “I’d been thinking about this particular room for awhile…”


	14. Chapter 14

The Secret Room of Walter White – A Detailed Description of its Form and Contents

Walt was methodical about the design for his secret room, just as he was with most things.  He’d conceptualized it as a kind of circular closet, located behind the bedroom which curved around it, somewhat like the centre of a wheel.  The architect hadn’t understood his insistence on the room’s width, which Walt had carefully measured and he hadn’t explained himself to her either.  He’d measured it to be wide enough to comfortably swing a belt in.

The room was hooked up to the forced air system of the rest of the house, so had decent ventilation.  Lights were recessed into the high ceiling.  The lights were operated from the outside.  A thick interior door, also locking from the outside.  After careful consideration, Walt had added a small watercloset containing a toilet and a sink, closed off behind another door.   Although the room was to be for disciplinary purposes primarily, not long term imprisonment, he didn’t see any reason for either Jesse or himself to be inconvenienced by a lack of plumbing.   On one end of the room he’d arranged for a large, heavy metal ring to be hung on chains from the ceiling, more than adequate to hold the weight of a man.  The ring was easily raised and lowered with the push of a button.  He told the architect it was for pull-ups.  For his little, custom designed gym.  She hadn’t commented.  Maybe she’d seen this kind of thing before.  The things people built for themselves when money wasn’t an issue.

Walt hadn’t shared this part of the new house’s architectural plans with Jesse.  He figured he could introduce his partner to it at the proper time.

The walls of the room were smooth, hardwood panels, a light teak.  He’d added metal rings onto the walls, at various heights.  In addition, he’d designed some built in drawers, adequate to hold a number of supplies, as well as a closet to hang clothes, because, well, you never know.  There were some fun outfits out there.   A hardwood floor--

_(“Wait, Mr. White… outfits?  Ugh.”_

_“I didn’t say I’d bought any, I just said I put a closet in.  Contingency planning.”_

_“No outfits okay?  I have limits.”_

_“…Good to know.”)_

Walt went shopping for supplies for the room, shortly before Jesse and he moved in.  He had decided to make a trip to Santa Fe for this particular shopping, although there were suppliers in Albuquerque.  After all, the city wasn’t _that_ large, and as a former highschool teacher and now university professor, he retained a certain concern about his reputation, which had remained miraculously intact throughout the twin ordeals of entering then exiting the methamphetamine business, and settling Jesse into his life.   This kind of shopping could be done in another city.

_(“You’re calling me an ordeal?”_

_“Well you’re not exactly smooth sailing.”_

_“That’s pretty funny, coming from you.”_

_“Hey, I never said I was easy to be with._

_“And trust me, no one else would say that either.”_

_“Do you want to hear what I bought, or not?”_

_“Sure, tell me about your kinky shopping trip.”)_

So Walt had made a day of it, completing a fairly comprehensive tour of Santa Fe’s adult lifestyle shops.  Although he and Skyler had (he liked to think) a more than adequately adventurous and playful sex life, he was amazed (and sometimes appalled) at the bewildering volume and variety of items out there.  There appeared to be implements and accessories to suit every taste, from the sinister to the ridiculously absurd.  Walt took his time browsing.  He considered picking up a few items for Skyler as well, but decided that she would probably prefer to personally select anything purchased for her own use.

_(“Jesus, Mr. White, spare me.”_

_“What?”_

_“Forget it.”)_

Walt decided to shop strategically.  After all, this activity had a point.  There were lessons to be taught and learned.  Jesse had a smart mouth.  It would be good for him to understand the consequences of that.  Walt carefully selected a gag, consisting of an ingenious black rubber ball, attached to adjustable leather straps that should fit comfortably around Jesse’s cheeks and lower jaw.  Safe, easy to use, and he had a feeling it would look strangely attractive on Jesse’s pretty face.

_(“…Please feel free to jump in with your comments here Jesse… Nothing to say?  Alright…”)_

He also purchased some manacles, handcuffs in both leather and metal, as well as leashes of different lengths.  These would be good for attaching Jesse to the room’s wall rings and the horizontal bar, as well as restraining him in other areas of the house as appropriate, including to the bed.  It was good to have options. 

Paddles. There were quite a variety.  Walt took his time on this purchase, eventually selecting three paddles of graduating severity, starting from a round, sturdy rubber paddle somewhat like a ping pong paddle, to a rectangular, rubber paddle reinforced internally with metal rods, and finally with a glossy wooden paddle, birch wood, if he was not mistaken, polished to a high shine.

_(“Boy Mr. White, you’ve really researched your paddles.”)_

…He could have continued along this spectrum of disciplinary severity and picked up a wooden paddle with holes drilled into it, designed to inflict maximum pain, but refrained.  To be fair, Jesse hadn’t given him sufficient provocation for that level of punishment.  So far, at least.

_(“Was that a hint?”_

_“Yes.”)_

Although he generally preferred to spank Jesse with handy household implements, Walt decided it couldn’t hurt to use this opportunity to stock up.  It was always good to have a portfolio of equipment to draw upon according to the situation.

To that end, he considered whips.  Again, a bewildering variety.  Eventually though, Walt decided to stay with his own leather belt.  He was comfortable wielding it, and it always seemed to generate good results.

Clamps.  Walt picked out some nipple clamps he figured Jesse would enjoy, as well as some obscure paraphernalia for attaching to his cock.  It was hard to tell, from the items themselves, how they would fit on, precisely.  Good thing they came with pictures. 

_(“Mr. White, you’re slaying me here.”_

_“Why, was that funny?”)_

Walt considered a glass case displaying dildos.  A range of sizes and colours, some battery powered.  Some bafflingly huge –how would inserting one of those even be medically possible?  Should he purchase any?   He had to admit, he was very jealous of Jesse’s virgin ass.  He liked the idea of nothing (and nobody) ever touching that ass but him.

_(“You should keep that in mind Jesse.”_

_“Um, okay…Mr. White.  Not like I had any plans otherwise.  But sure.  Will do.”)_

However…oh what the hell.  There was one dildo Walt found particularly appealing –would really complement a look for Jesse that was starting to build in his mind.  He beckoned the store clerk over for assistance.

And finally, a hood, that would cover Jesse’s head completely.  Walt had thought hard about that purchase, with its quality of terror beyond the play of the other items, but in the end decided to move forward.  There was something about depriving Jesse of sight, muffling his hearing and stifling his voice that Walt found very compelling.  He would use this item judiciously.

With that, Walt wrapped up his shopping.  He decided to call Gretchen and Elliot prior to leaving Santa Fe, to see if they were available for dinner.  With his comfortable wealth, his new position at UNM, as well as his developing products (still at the top secret research stage) in the works, seeing those two was quite enjoyable now, a chance to catch up on old times, without the old bitterness.   Also, having the anticipation of Jesse _(his young Jesse)_ waiting for him to return home, would add an enjoyable, secret fillip to a visit with his old friends.

_(“Who’s Gretchen and Elliot?_

_“Never mind.  No one important.”)_

***

“So now we’re all set up,” Walt said.  “What do you think, so far?”

Jesse’s face was turned up on his lap.   Walt stroked his cheek.

“Sounds like you’ve really thought this through.”  Jesse said.

“I think most things through.”  Walt replied.

Jesse was quiet.  Then asked, “How far were you thinking ahead when you blackmailed me to cook meth?”

“When I _approached you_ with a business proposition, I wasn’t thinking about anything else but the business.  The rest came later.  After I'd been around you for awhile.”

“I see,” Jesse said.   “So there was something about me that put these ideas into your mind?”

“That’s right.”

“And you decided to do something about it.”

“Yes,” Walt said.

Jesse looked at him.

Walt sighed.  Continued his explanation.  “I have lung cancer, Jesse.  It's likely that the treatment won’t succeed and I’ll go the way of your aunt in a few months.  I wanted you and I figured…why not?  You’re my parting gift at the end of a lifetime.”

Jesse turned his face away.  Gazing down at his partner’s averted cheek, Walt was struck again by how young Jesse was.  A boy really.  Smooth skin like a child’s.  Jesse’s eyes were back on him.  He said, “Okay…but what about the…all the rest of it?  Like the…like when you were hitting me yesterday.  Like this…dungeon set up of yours.  Why all that?  Mr. White?”

Walt didn’t answer.  Jesse’s eyes were fixed on him.

 _“Why do you have to hurt me?”_   Jesse whispered.

Walt stroked Jesse’s hair.  It felt like down against his fingers.  “That’s how I get through to you,” he replied quietly.  “That’s how you remember me, against all the others who’ve wanted you.  The ones you take for granted.  I’m the one who’s not afraid to do that to you.”

Jesse’s face took on a shattered look.  He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.  Stared at Walt.  His eyes were glistening.  Walt found that he couldn’t sustain his partner’s gaze.  He looked away.  Both of them were quiet. 

Then Jesse rolled his head on Walt’s lap.  Walt’s eyes snapped back to him.  Jesse was rubbing his cheek against the bulge of Walt’s cock.

“What are you doing?”  Walt asked.

Jesse turned and pushed his face against Walt’s cock, nuzzling it like a cat.  Walt felt himself instantly hard.  “Jesse,” he said in a strained voice.  “Don’t do this.  I have to go soon.”

Jesse burrowed his face further into Walt’s groin, pressing his nose and lips against the hard bulge.  He opened his mouth and breathed hotly onto Walt’s cock through the fabric of his pants.  Walt grabbed a hank of Jesse’s hair, restraining him.  “Jesse,” Walt said roughly.  “Stop it!”

Jesse turned his head slightly, one eye surveying his partner’s vexed expression.  He smiled gently up at Walt.  Turned himself around to lay on his back, nestling his head comfortably against Walt’s cock.  Folded his hands across his stomach.  Crossing his ankles, he looked back up at Walt.  “So tell me what you do to me next,” he said, conversationally.   Met Walt’s eyes.  “With your fancy dungeon I mean.  Now that it’s all good to go.”

Walt’s teeth were clenched.  He took a breath, let it out carefully through his nose.  “Well,” he said eventually.  “Let’s see…”

***

Jesse’s Abrupt Introduction to Walt’s Secret Room, aka “The Dungeon”

Jesse was lying prone on the living room couch of the new house, one leg carelessly stretched out on the adjoining ottoman.  The large flat screen TV was on.  Some news channel.  A bottle of beer was on the floor, within easy reach of his hand.  A bowl of popcorn was balanced on his chest.

He and Mr. White had just moved their stuff over the day before, and a lot of things were still packed in cardboard boxes, scattered around the house.  They had decided not to bring too much with them.  After all, it’s not like Mr. White was moving _out_ of his old house, rather, he was setting up a new, additional residence for himself and Jesse.  And there was no point in Jesse moving his aunt’s old furniture over.  He just left it in his old house, which he would put on the market at some point.

Jesse hadn’t bothered to tell his parents he’d moved.  They never called him, never came by.  Had gotten used to treating him like the family’s black sheep.  Let them figure out he was gone in their own time.

So really, other than his drum set, clothes, a few books and some old posters and such, Jesse hadn’t brought much with him.  He and Mr. White had been furnishing the new house (along with the help of this great interior decorator Jesse had found –and it had taken him awhile to source out someone who could stand working with Mr. White, like, this was the fourth one) pretty much from scratch.  Which had been a lot of fun, actually.

Jesse had found, as he worked with Mr. White on the design of the house, that he was re-discovering his artistic side, which had been ignored for years, buried under his lifestyle of partying, dealing and drug use.  He remembered, with a lively happiness, that he was _good_ at this –at the imagining and then bringing into being of colour, form and function. 

Working so closely with the architect, decorator and the various contractors had been a revelation for Jesse.  He ended up actually taking the lead on the project, handling most of the design direction and budget (and handling Mr. White too) as the house was built.  After a mildly disastrous start, with everyone about to walk off the job (thanks to Mr. White’s less than congenial management style), Jesse had encouraged his partner to spend his time in his lab at UNM.  After all, he told Mr. White, his research was at a critical stage, with potentially exponential returns.  Mr. White should keep his mind on that.  Let Jesse handle all the other stuff.

And Mr. White had done just that.  Taken himself off, for the most part, leaving Jesse to it.  And Jesse had done a great job.  Everyone acknowledged that, including Mr. White.  Jesse had managed everything from start to finish, consulting with Mr. White at key points (and most of the time they had managed to get through those discussions without it getting emotional or, you know, physical).  Reasonable conversations.  That in itself was kind of a miracle, as far as Jesse was concerned.

And now the house was done.  And it was incredible.  And for the most part, it was Jesse’s creation.  Except for Mr. White’s man cave.  He’d told Jesse he wanted to do that room himself, and had done just that.  Jesse hadn’t even seen it, other than in its initial roughest stages.  Mr. White had been making the architect a little miserable about it (big surprise there), so Jesse had been happy to leave well enough alone.  He had enough to deal with.

Jesse took a swallow of beer, finishing the bottle, and idly considered what to do next.  Next project.  Something creative, definitely.   Mr. White had suggested that he continue his education finally, study something that reflected what was important to _him_ rather than the mismatched expectations of his parents.  Jesse was considering going back to school full time to study art.  After this house, he felt a talent in himself that was just waiting to stretch out.

And maybe looking at ways to help kids, in the ways he could have really used help himself, a few years back.  In his years as a meth dealer, he’d witnessed some heartbreaking situations involving families, but had been too messed up in his own head to do anything about them.  Now was his chance.

The news on the TV was looping.  Talking heads.  Jesse flipped the channel a few times, and then turned the set off.  He didn’t really feel like watching TV.  His eyes went to the sky outside the tall windows of the living room.  Evening was coming, and the desert sky was darkening into that clear violet-blue, so pure out here, without the reflective lights of the city. 

Jesse decided to go outside and look at the sky for awhile.  Watch the stars come out one by one.   He moved the bowl of popcorn off his chest onto the floor, displacing a few kernels over the couch, and left the empty beer bottle on the floor beside it. Briefly considered taking the stuff to the kitchen, but it was kind of a trek to get there and back.  He’d deal with it later. 

Jesse opened a sliding glass door and stepped outside, leaving the door partially open.  Sat down on one of the poured concrete patio steps.  Looked up, lost in thought.

Was brought abruptly back to reality by a hard finger and thumb, grasping his ear.

“Ow –hey!”

“Get up.”  The fingers yanked him upwards.

“Mr. White, what’re you doing, man?”  Jesse scrambled to his feet.  Stood awkwardly with Mr. White’s fingers clamped on his ear.  “Jesus, would you _let go_?”

“I don’t think so.  Get in here.”  Keeping a painful grip on his ear, Mr. White pulled Jesse back inside to the living room.  Brought him to a stop in front of the couch.  “What exactly is this?”  Indicated the bowl of popcorn and empty beer bottle.

“Um, I don’t know, it looks like popcorn and a beer bottle to me.”  Jesse said sarcastically.  “What do you you think –ow!”  Mr. White had given his ear another yank.  “Fucking let go of my ear, Mr. White!”

Mr. White let go of his ear.  Then slapped him across the mouth.

“Hey, what was _that_ for!”

“ _That_ was for swearing at me.  But we’re not done yet.  Perhaps I’ve failed to make something clear to you, so let me do it now.  In this new house of ours, you will be neat.  You will be tidy.  You will pick up after yourself.  Your slovenly days are over.  Do you understand this?”

“Mr. White, why are you making such a big deal about this?  Christ!”

“I am making a point here Jesse.  We are going to _change_ something here.  We are going to change the way you do things.  I put up with your…mess to a certain extent when it was _your_ house, but in _this_ house, no.  If you are messy, if you don’t pick up after yourself, there will be consequences.”

“Mr. White, _fuck you_ , man.  This is my house too and I’m going to do what I want!  I’m not going to tiptoe around you!”

Mr. White regarded him a moment through narrowed eyes.  Then he looped an arm roughly around Jesse’s neck, tucking Jesse’s head under his arm.  Started walking towards the bedroom.  Jesse was struggling.  “Mr. White –let go of me!”

“Nope.  You’re coming with me.”

“Well let go of my neck!”

Mr. White released Jesse’s neck and immediately grasped his upper arm.  Not gently.  Continued to walk Jesse swiftly towards the bedroom.  Jesse was laughing.  “Mr. White are you planning to _fuck me_ into being neat?”

Mr. White glanced at him.  “Not exactly.”  They were in the bedroom.  But Mr. White didn’t push Jesse towards the bed as he’d anticipated (not so reluctantly).  Instead, he walked Jesse swiftly around the corner of the bedroom’s curving interior wall.  Halted in front of the closed door to the man cave.    There was a combination lock on the doorhandle.  Mr. White punched in the passcode and opened the door.  It was black dark inside, no windows.  Mr. White laid a hand on the middle of Jesse’s back and pushed him inside.  Closed the door behind him, locking it.  Jesse was left in the blind dark.

Jesse turned around, yanked on the door.   “Mr. White!  What the fuck is this!  Let me out!”

There was silence on the other side of the door.

“Mr. White!”

Silence.

Jesse pounded on the door in frustration.  Rattled the door handle.   He felt a combination lock on this side of the door as well.  Of course, he didn’t know the code.  After some more banging, he sank to the floor, resting his back against the door, in the dark.  Mr. White would come back to let him out eventually.  Then they would have a discussion about this.  A serious one.  Jesse wasn’t going to let himself be bullied.

Time passed. 

Jesse pounded on the door at intervals, shouted.  There was no response from Mr. White. 

Jesse was getting uncomfortable.

He pounded on the door again, yelling at the top of his voice.  “Mr. White!  I need to take a piss!  If you don’t want me pissing on your floor, I suggest you let me out.  _Now!”_

The lights came on.

Jesse blinked, stared around the revealed room, aghast.  The windowless space was fatly oval in shape, almost circular.  It was panelled in a light coloured wood.  Metal rings at various heights were fixed to the walls.  Slight recesses, like handles, were carved into some of the wooden panels.  Another metal ring was suspended on steel chains at one end of the oval, about at the height of Jesse’s chin.  The ceiling was high, with small bright lights embedded into it.  The door through which Mr. White had pushed Jesse was closed with a grey steel combination lock.  It looked thick, immovable.  Across the room, Jesse saw another door, with a handle, but no lock.  He rushed over, opened it.  A toilet and a sink.  Jesse was swearing.

“Mr. White, what the fuck is this!  Let me the fuck out!  Now!”  He crossed back to the locked door, pounded on it again.

No answer.  Just the well lit closed room, blank, silent, sinister with its steel rings and chains, its walls of light panelled wood.

Jesse was starting to feel panicky.  Tried to calm himself.  Used the toilet to take care of his most pressing need, flushed, washed his hands.  Splashed some cold water on his face.

Walked into the centre of the room.  Raised his voice.  “Mr. White, I’m sorry!  I promise I’ll be more neat next time.  Can you let me out now?”

 No answer.  Nothing. 

Jesse was looking around the blank walls.  Then he saw it.  A small camera, suspended close to the ceiling.  The lense aimed at him.  He looked at it beseechingly, spread his hands.  “Mr. White, I know you can see me.  I’m sorry!  Can you let me out now?”

Silence.

Jesse glared at the camera.  “Okay.  So you’re not letting me out right now.  I understand there’s a message here.  Fine.  Let’s see what kind of place you’ve locked me in.”

Jesse started exploring the panelled walls.  Pulled on the recessed handles, opening drawers and cupboard doors to see what was inside.  Became increasingly upset and appalled as their contents were revealed.   A closet door opening to display a rack of leather leashes, hanging neatly.   What looked like a half mask of leather straps, with a rubber ball gag, hanging on a hook beside them.  A flat drawer pulling out, with paddles, laid in an orderly fashion, side by side.  Handcuffs in another drawer.  Some leather and metal clamps and other small doodads, arranged like jewelry in yet another drawer.  Additional, obscure, folded items, mostly black, all pretty sinister looking.  Mr. White appeared to have had himself a shopping spree in a fetish shop.  Jesse found himself shaking.

He turned back to the camera in the ceiling.  “Mr. White, you’re a _sick fuck!_   And this is not happening, got it?  Whatever you had in mind, I’m not playing along!  We’re not doing this anymore!”

No answer. 

Jesse went back to the open drawers, dumped their contents on the floor.   Ripped the leather leashes off the hanging rack and tossed them.  Threw the gag and some other items against the wall as hard as he could.   Tossed the metal handcuffs down with a clatter.  Turned back to the camera.

“You planned this all out didn’t you Mr. White?  Well _this_ is what I think of your plans!”  Raised his middle finger.   “Now you let me out right now, or I’m leaving you the first chance I get.  You’ll never see me again!  Now _let me out!_ ”  He was staring at the camera furiously.

The lights went out.

“Mr. _White!”_

Silence.

Jesse sank to the floor, in the dark.  He put his head in his hands.

Time passed, endlessly. 

Jesse was lying, curled up, on the room’s wooden floor. 

He had sat for awhile, his arms around his knees.  Used the washroom again, groping to find it in the dark.  Drank cold water from the tap.  Had returned to the main room, leaning his back against a panelled wall.  Sat there. 

Time continued to pass in the featureless dark.  Silence.  Minutes.  Hours.   The room silent.

Jesse had felt tears coming, breaking down, finally.  “Mr. White _please!  Please let me out!”_

No answer.

Finally Jesse lay down on the floor, face against the cool wooden boards.  Tears were running from his eyes, creating a damp patch under his cheek.  He fell asleep, eventually.

Woke up. 

Nothing had changed.  Blind black in front of his eyes.  The room still silent, except of the low hum of the forced air.  Jesse was cold, cramped, stiff.  He sat up.  Called into the dark.  “Mr. White…I’m really sorry I was messy.  I’m sorry I swore.  I won’t do it again.  Please…can you let me out now?"

Silence.  Nothing.

“Mr. White _, please…”_ Jesse’s voice was shaking.

The lights turned on. 

Jesse blinked.  He stared hazily at the mess he had created, the various items on the floor, drawers gaping open.  He turned his eyes up to the camera, stared at it distraught.  Mouthed silently to it.  “ _Mr. White…”_

Then, shockingly, Mr. White’s voice.  Clear and distinct in the room, broadcast through some sort of microphone.

“I want you to put everything away, the way you found it.”

Jesse stared unbelievingly up at the camera.  “What…”

“You heard me.  Put everything away the way you found it.  Or the lights go off again.”

Jesse got stiffly to his feet.  Movements halting, he started picking up the different items from the floor, putting them back in the drawers. 

“Put them away neatly,”  Mr. White’s voice said.  “Lay things straight.  The way you found them.”

Jesse was struggling not to further lose his composure.  He put everything away in neat, careful order.   Turned back to the camera.  Spread his hands.  “Okay?”

“Very good Jesse,” came Mr. White’s voice.  “Now take off your clothes.”

Jesse stared at the camera, disbelieving.  Shook his head.  “Mr. White, _no_.  Come _on_.  I’m _sorry,_ okay?   Please, can we just stop this now?”

“Take off your clothes, Jesse,” Mr. White’s voice was calm, expressionless.  “Or the lights go off.”

Jesse stared for a moment longer at the camera.  Then he whipped his shirt violently over his head.  Started to fling the shirt down.

“ _Don’t_ drop that on the floor!”  Mr. White’s voice was sharp.  “Fold it, and put it in the closet.  And the same with the rest.  I don’t want to see one item of your clothing ever left on the floor again.  Are we clear on this?”

“Crystal.”  Jesse bit back.  He opened the closet door, folded his tshirt and laid it neatly on the shelf under the hanging leashes.  Then he stepped out of his jeans, folded them with exaggerated care and laid them beside his shirt.

“Shorts too.  And your socks.”

“Fine!  Fucking pervert.”  Jesse muttered under his breath.  He peeled off his socks, balled them up and put them in the closet.  Pulled off his shorts, folded them and laid them on top of his jeans.  Closed the closet door.

Turned back to the camera, glaring.  “Like what you see?”

“Very much,” Mr. White’s voice was amused.  “But I’ll like it even more in a moment.  Now I want you to go to the drawer with the handcuffs.  Take out the metal ones.”

Jesse was still.  “Why?”

“You’ll see in a moment.  Now do it.”

Jesse didn’t move.   He heard Mr. White sigh, through the microphone.  “Jesse, I can turn the lights off again and leave you in here indefinitely.  It’s up to you.”

Jesse walked slowly over to the drawer with the handcuffs.  Opened it.  Took out the metal ones.  Turned back to the camera, holding them in one hand.

“Good,” came Mr. White’s voice.  “Now walk over to the metal ring.”  Jesse turned tentatively towards the ring suspended from the ceiling.  “Yes, that’s the one,” Mr. White said encouragingly.  Jesse walked over to it.  “Thread the handcuffs through that ring,” said Mr. White, “and then lock them on your wrists.”

Jesse turned towards the camera.  “Mr. White, no!” he said.  “Come _on_ , don’t make me do this!”

Mr. White’s voice was inexorable.  “You argue anymore Jesse, and the lights go off and I leave you to your thoughts.”

Despite himself, Jesse was starting to become upset again, his breath shaking.  He felt himself getting hard, and flushed with embarrassment.  With a final frustrated gesture, he threaded the handcuffs through the metal ring hanging in front of him, and fastened one cuff and then the other, around his wrists.  Heard them click.  Closed his eyes.

“Very good,” came Mr. White’s voice.  It sounded like the bastard was smiling.  Then suddenly, the ring he was attached to was being raised, retracting into the ceiling, pulling Jesse’s arms upwards.  “Mr. White!”  Jesse shouted in a panic.

“Don’t shout,” Mr. White said.  The chains stopped retracting.  Jesse’s feet were still flat on the floor, but just barely, his arms stretched over his head.  He yanked on the handcuffs.  “Don’t do that,” came Mr. White’s voice.  “Be patient.  I’ll be there in a moment.”

There was a pause.  And then Jesse heard the door open.  He strained to turn around, saw his partner out of the corner of his eye, silhouetted in the open door way.  Then Mr. White entered the room, closing the door behind him. 

Jesse twisted around, eyeing his partner pleadingly.  “Mr. White, can we stop this now?  I’m really sorry, okay?  Can you please just let me go?”

“Not yet, Jesse,” Mr. White sounded regretful.  “There’s still a lesson to be learned here.  “I’m afraid I’m still going to have to punish you.”

Jesse took a breath.  Let it out.  “Fine,” he said, turning away, his voice hard.  “Get it over with then.”  He stared at the wall, waiting.  Heard Mr. White’s steps behind him.  Clenched his teeth.

Mr. White walked slowly around Jesse.  Came to a halt in front of him, stood looking at him.  Jesse stared back at his partner.  Mr. White was regarding him thoughtfully.  He looked calm, neat, dressed in tan khaki pants and a dark cotton shirt.  His shaven bald head gleamed under the small, bright lights.  His hands were relaxed at his sides.

Then Mr. White stepped forward.  Put his arms around Jesse’s waist, embracing his stretched out body, the hard bulge in the fabric of his pants rubbing against Jesse’s cock.  He rested his cheek against Jesse’s cheek.  “I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” he said softly, into Jesse’s ear.  “You’re going to have to ask more politely than that.”

Jesse didn’t answer.  He glared at his partner.

Mr. White’s hand dropped to Jesse’s cock, wrapping his fingers around its erect length.  Jesse started to pull away.  Mr. White’s hand tightened, grasping Jesse’s cock firmly.  He used it like a handle to yank Jesse closer.  Then he fitted his mouth to Jesse’s.  Kissed him. 

Jesse kept his mouth closed.  He twisted his head away, trying to avoid Mr. White’s lips.

Mr. White raised his head.  Met his partner’s eyes.  Jesse stared back balefully, his lips tightly sealed.  Mr. White smiled, released his cock.  Reached up and casually tweaked one of Jesse’s nipples.  “Okay,” he said conversationally.  “You’re not ready to ask me yet.  I can work with that.”

He turned away, walked over to one of the drawers.  Opened it, took out a set of clamps.  Went back to Jesse, holding the clamps up, displayed in the palm of his hand.  The clamps were shaped like broad, short handled clothespins, made out of steel, snapping shut with a steel spring.   Their insides were clad in leather.  Steel rings with twistable screws encircled their outsides, just above the snapping jaws.

“I think you’ll like these.”  Mr. White said.  Jesse glared at him.  “Fuck you man.” he replied.  Mr. White nodded, unsurprised.  Then he took Jesse’s left nipple in his fingers and pinched the flesh up.  Carefully fitted the clamp over the nipple, pushing the tender flesh deeply into it.  Released the spring.   The clamp snapped closed.  Jesse shut his eyes briefly, drew in a breath.  Mr. White was looking at him closely.  Keeping his eyes on Jesse’s face, he twisted the screws in the ring surrounding the clamp, further tightening it.  Jesse was wincing, turning his head.  Mr. White gave the screw a final twist, then pulled the clamp gently forwards. 

“Ouch –shit!”  Jesse said between clenched teeth.  His pained eyes met Mr. White’s.  Mr. White smiled at him.  He fitted to the other clamp to Jesse’s right nipple.  Tightened the screws.  Pulled on it gently.  Asked, “How’s that?”

“Feels great, you fucking shit.”  Jesse said bitterly.

Mr. White put his face close to Jesse’s.  “You’re not improving your situation by swearing at me,” he said.  His hand dropped to Jesse’s cock.  Caressed it.  “This is nice and hard,” he said.  “You must be enjoying something.”  Jesse’s eyes were closed. 

Mr. White was back at the drawers.  He selected another item, brought it over.  It was a set of two bands about an inch and a half wide, of thin, smooth black leather, with small metal buckles attached to the ends.  The bands had metal loops fastened at intervals, along their length.  “Bear with me while I figure this out,” Mr. White said.

He knelt in front of Jesse’s cock.  Gathered up his balls in one hand, pulling them down.  Then wrapped one of the bands around the base of Jesse’s balls, buckling it tightly.  The flesh bulged out from underneath the constricting leather.  Mr. White ran his fingers lightly over the tautened skin.  “Very nice,” he said.  “Smooth.”  He glanced up.  Jesse was staring off into the distance, cheeks flushed, deliberately not looking at him. 

Mr. White’s fingers caressed Jesse’s cock.  It was rigid, red.  He carefully wrapped the second leather band around the base of Jesse’s cock, also tightening it, buckling it.  As he pulled the strap, the band around Jesse’s balls was tightened against the band on the base of his cock, drawing both organs together.  Mr. White stood back, considered the effect.  “Charming,” he said.  “Looks better than the pictures.”

Jesse couldn’t contain himself anymore.  “ _Pictures?”_ he said.  “Mr. White, this is too much.  You’re going too far.  Take this shit off me and let me go.  I promise I’ll be more neat.  I’m sorry for swearing at you.  This isn’t _necessary.”_

Mr. White looked back at him.  “Do you want me to gag you?” he asked.

Jesse stared at him.  Opened his mouth.  Closed it.

Mr. White continued.  “I will, you know, if I have to.  But I would prefer not to, yet.  You still have something to ask me.  Are you ready to ask me now?”

Jesse’s eyes were wide, distraught.  He stared at Mr. White, silently.

Mr. White held Jesse’s gaze.  His eyes narrowed at the lack of response.  “Very well then,” he said after a moment.

He turned back to the drawer and removed something else.  Two long, very fine adjustable leather straps with metal spring clasps on each end.  Mr. White attached the straps' clasps to the clamps on Jesse’s nipples.  Then he attached the clasps at the straps' other ends to the metal loops on the bands strapped around Jesse’s balls, and his cock.  He carefully adjusted each strap until they pulled tightly against Jesse’s wrapped and pinched flesh. 

Jesse’s head had fallen forward.  “Ohmigod,” he whispered.  His cock felt uncomfortably swollen and constricted against the tight, restraining leather bands, his nipples unbearably twisted and stretched.  His every breath forced a ripple of painful sensation through his body.

Mr. White was watching him, his eyes taking in Jesse’s reaction with a cold intensity, his face set in fixed, concentrated lines.  Then his eyes softened.  He smiled at Jesse, disregarding the younger man’s agonized expression.

“You look beautiful like this.”  Mr. White said.

 He stepped forward and kissed Jesse tenderly on the mouth, ignoring his partner’s closed lips.  His hand went to Jesse’s bound cock, closing delicately around the exposed, reddened tip.  He moved his hand up and down with exquisite gentleness, running his fingers and thumb lightly over the glans.  Pulled gently on one of the straps attached to Jesse’s nipples.  Jesse was shifting uncomfortably against the various restraints, his movements uncharacteristically awkward.  His mouth opened involuntarily.  Mr. White took immediate advantage, thrusting his tongue between Jesse’s lips.  His hand closed strongly on Jesse’s cock. 

Jesse was struggling for control, furious with his partner, and with himself for his helpless reaction to the torment of sensations Mr. White was inflicting on him.  He yanked his mouth away from Mr. White’s and turned his head, hiding his face against his arm.  He felt Mr. White straighten up, step away from him. 

“I guess that means we keep going.”  Mr. White said.  Jesse refused to look at him.  He heard Mr. White moving around, rustling behind him.  Then hands on his bottom.  “Open up,” said Mr. White’s voice.  “Spread your legs.”

Jesse jerked, turned as far around as he was able, trying to see what Mr. White was doing.  The man was a blur in the corner of his eye, right behind him. 

“No fucking way, Mr. White, get away from me!”  Jesse kicked out at the other man, twisted his body out of his reach as much as he could.  Mr. White didn’t say anything.  Jesse heard his steps moving away.  He lowered his head in relief. 

Then suddenly the ring that he was handcuffed to was being pulled upwards, the chains further retracting into the ceiling, stretching Jesse upwards onto his toes. 

Jesse felt immediate pain around his wrists, and unbearable, pulling pressure on his nipples, and around his balls and cock.  He fought for purchase on the floor with his feet.  “Ouch!  Mr. White, _stop!_   This really hurts!  Stop it!  Please!”

The upwards motion stopped.  Mr. White’s voice came from behind him.  “We can do this with you hanging by your arms or on your feet, Jesse.  Your choice.”

Jesse was gasping.  “Fine!  Lower me you sick fucking bastard, lower me down!  You _fuck!_ ”

The ring lowered, allowing Jesse’s feet to rest on the floor.  Jesse’s chest was heaving, in spite of the aggravating, pulling pain that the movement caused him.  He sagged forward momentarily against the handcuffs, strength leaving his legs.  Mr. White’s hand was stroking between the cheeks of his ass.  “Now open up for me.”

Jesse closed his eyes briefly, then shifted his heels apart, spreading his legs.  “I hate you, you fucking bastard,” he whispered.  He heard Mr. White laugh softly.  “Sure you do,” he replied.

He walked around to face Jesse again.  He had something balanced between his hands, raised it up in front of Jesse’s face like an offering.  Jesse’s eyes widened.  Mr. White was holding a black rubber dildo, shaped like an erect cock.  Attached to it were several black leather straps with buckles  -some sort of harness.  And at the back were a bunch of long, thin leather tassels, like a horse’s tail. 

“This is what I’m putting in you.”  Mr. White said. 

Jesse shook his head.  “No.”  Looked at his partner.  “Mr. White, no.”  Mr. White returned Jesse’s gaze for a moment, then walked behind him again.  His hands were on Jesse, fingers cold and greasy with cream.  He thrust a finger into Jesse.  Rubbed cream onto the delicate interior and exterior skin.  Jesse’s teeth were clenched.  He stayed silent.  “That should do it,” came Mr. White’s voice.  He sounded strained, like he was having trouble catching his breath.  “Okay…here we go…”

His fingers were on Jesse’s bottom, spreading his cheeks.   Then Jesse felt the cold, bulbous, rubbery object being inserted into him, in a smooth, inexorable motion.  It felt just as large as it looked, filling him immediately, completely.  It pressed insistently against the sensitive tissues of his prostate gland, switching on a buzzing, tingling sensation deep inside, like a lightbulb lighting him up.

Jesse was biting back his voice, trying to keep silent, moving as little as possible against the intense sensation.  Mr. White had squatted down beside his legs, fingers busy with the dildo’s harness.  “Let’s see here…okay, I see how this works.” 

The dildo had a short triangular leather strap attached to its top, which pulled up between the cheeks of Jesse’s bottom, somewhat like a g-string, and ended in a loop resting against his lower back.  Through that loop was threaded a broad leather strap, forming a belt, and attached to the back of the belt were two thin straps, each ending with buckles, whose use was not immediately apparent.  Mr. White pulled the short, triangular strap snugly up between Jesse’s legs and fixed it in place by fastening the belt around Jesse’s waist.   Jesse felt the dildo inside him pulled firmly upwards.  He shifted a little, helplessly.

There were four additional, longer straps attached to the bottom of the harness, each ending with buckles, dangling down against Jesse’s legs.  Mr. White looked at these thoughtfully for a moment.  Then he brought two of the straps forward, one on the inside and one on the outside of Jesse’s right thigh.  Threaded them through the loops on the strap already bound around the base of Jesse’s balls, pulled the harness straps back, and buckled them tightly.  Repeated the same arrangement with the other two harness straps on the left side.  The skin on Jesse’s balls, already taut from the restraining leather band and strap connected to his nipple, tightened further under the increased pressure.  Jesse winced painfully, turned his head.

Two remaining straps were still hanging loose, the thin ones attached to the back of the harness belt.  Mr. White picked up one of these straps, brought it around Jesse’s hip, and threaded it through a metal loop in the leather band binding the base of his cock.  Pulled it back and buckled it.  Did the same with the final strap on the other side, causing Jesse’s erect cock to be strapped securely back against his belly. 

Walt stood back to survey his work.  His eyes narrowed with pleasure at the sight.

Jesse’s stretched out body was displayed to perfection, his white skin complemented dramatically by the network of black leather straps.  The long tasselled tail swung freely behind his bottom.  That, combined with the leather harness wrapping around his waist and thighs, the bindings around his reddened balls and straining cock, and the thin straps attached tightly to the clamps on his nipples, gave him the look of an exotic mount, meticulously saddled.

Jesse’s face was flushed red, his eyes half closed.  Walt could see how he was trying to hold himself still, to move as little as possible against the various straps restraining and pulling against his flesh.  Against the dildo sealed tightly into his ass.

“Do you have something to say to me now Jesse?”  Walt asked.

Jesse’s eyes focused.  Glared at him, a blaze of blue.  “Yeah.  Fuck you and your fucking games!  _Fuck you_ , Mr. White!  I _hate_ your sick fucking ass!  I wish I’d never met you!   It’s too bad you didn’t _die!_ ”

Walt stared back at him silently.  Jesse met his gaze furiously, then looked away, turning his face back into his arm.  His chest was heaving. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Walt said, finally.  “But I’m afraid those weren’t the words I was looking for.  The ones that would end this for you I mean.”

He turned back to the closet.  Took out the gag.  With a regretful look, he fitted it around Jesse’s face.  Jesse was twisting, turning his head violently.  “Stop it!  Stop it you bast—“  Walt positioned the black rubber ball carefully between Jesse’s teeth, cutting off his speech.  Then he buckled up the straps of the gag securely behind Jesse’s head.

Jesse was making hoarse, snarling sounds behind the gag, his eyes shooting daggers at his partner.  He yanked on the handcuffs, twisted his body against the chain holding up his arms.

“Hold still or I’m raising you off your feet again,” Walt said sharply.  Jesse subsided, eyes abruptly distraught. 

Walt took in the sight of his young partner, bound, strapped and gagged.  Jesse’s white skin and untidy blonde hair gleamed in the bright lights of the room.  His blue eyes with their long lashes were wide, blinking rapidly, gleaming like jewels above the harsh black straps that slashed across his cheeks and mouth.   Walt was still, transfixed. 

Jesse watched Mr. White looking at him like he was a piece of art, a sculpture, on display in a museum.  He felt tears rising, blinked them away. 

Mr. White walked slowly towards Jesse, halting in front of him, his eyes on Jesse’s face.  He ran his fingers idly over Jesse’s cheek, trailing them over the leather straps of the gag, down his throat, over his chest.  Lightly circled one of the clamped nipples.  Then put his fingers on Jesse’s bound, straining cock, running them over the reddened tip.  There was an absorbed, almost meditative expression on Mr. White's craggy face.  He dropped abruptly to his knees, crouching before Jesse.  Put his mouth over Jesse’s cock and started sucking strongly on it. 

Jesse was rolling his head, overcome by the feeling of Mr. White’s hot mouth, the multitude of sensations invading every sensitive point in his body. He started moaning, mewling helplessly against the gag.  A wave of weakening pleasure ran through him.  He began to shudder, close to orgasm.

Mr. White abruptly released Jesse’s cock, standing up. 

Jesse stared at him, eyes agonized.   “Ask to be punished, Jesse.”  Mr. White’s eyes were intent on him, his voice low.  “Nod your head.  _Ask me!_ ”

Jesse was shaking in the restraints.  He turned his head miserably away, then back towards his partner.  Then he narrowed his eyes at Mr. White, glaring at him over the gag.  Turned the backs of his hands, awkward in their handcuffs, towards Mr. White and raised both middle fingers.

Jesse saw his former teacher’s face go still as stone.  Then Mr. White turned away, pulling yet another item out of a drawer.  Turned back, holding it up in front of Jesse’s face.  A black hood, designed to cover the whole head, shaped out of thick, quilted material, a rectangle of black mesh in the centre of its blank face for a nose piece.

“Take a look at this,” Mr. White said roughly.  He was breathing hard, his cold eyes piercing.  “This fits completely around your head and buckles around your neck.  He held up the buckle, demonstrating.  “Once it’s on, you won’t be able to see or hear.   You’ll be able to breathe reasonably well through this mesh, but that’s it.  I’m going to put this on you now, and then I’m going to leave you for awhile, in the dark.  You obviously need a bit more time for consideration.  I’m a reasonable man and I’m going to give you all the time you need.”

Jesse was shaking his head violently, eyes huge.  He was growling loudly behind the gag.

Ignoring this, Walt drew the hood over Jesse’s head, fitting the breathing mesh carefully over his nose.  He buckled the neck of the hood snugly around Jesse’s neck.  Smoothed his hands over the quilted fabric.

As the hood covered him, Jesse felt an instant, disorienting claustrophobia.  The thick, padded fabric lay heavily against his face, forcing his eyes shut.  He felt the additional challenge of drawing air into his lungs, already compromised by the uncomfortable gag.  His hearing was muffled.  The heavy, warm fabric was drawn closely around his throat, buckled with a strap.  He was trapped in a universe of black stifling silence.

Mr. White had stepped away.  Jesse couldn’t feel, see or hear his partner anymore.  Mr. White had said he was going to leave Jesse hanging here, strapped into this agony of discomfort, in the dark.  Had Mr. White already left? 

Jesse panicked.

He started jerking his body violently, thrashing against the handcuffs, unmindful of the straps binding and pulling at his sensitive flesh.  He was screaming, his voice muffled behind the twin barriers of the hood and the gag, throwing his head from side to side.

Mr. White quickly stepped up to him, unbuckled the hood and pulled it off Jesse’s face.  Jesse’s eyes were streaming with tears.  He mewled hoarsely from behind the gag.  Mr. White reached behind him and undid it, peeling it off his face.

Jesse spoke frantically, breath hitching in his throat.  “Mr. White, _please._ Don’t leave me here like this!I’ll do whatever you want! Just, _please_ …don’t leave me here!”

Mr. White looked at him gravely.  “I’ve been very clear about what I want Jesse,” he said quietly.  “I want you to _ask me_ to be punished.”

Jesse was crying.  He lowered his head.  “Then punish me,” he whispered, brokenly.

Mr. White was silent.  After a moment, Jesse felt his partner’s hands gently on his body, undoing the many buckles, releasing the straps that had bound him so uncomfortably.  He unscrewed and carefully pulled off the clamps pinching Jesse’s nipples.  Removed the dildo.  Stowed the various items away.

Came back to Jesse.  Jesse was still crying.  He met Mr. White’s eyes.  Mr. White looked away.  Walked behind Jesse, disappearing from his line of sight.  Jesse heard him undo his belt, the buckle clinking.  Jesse was struggling to get himself back under control, closing his eyes tightly.  He heard Mr. White pull his belt out from the loops of his pants.  Another silence.  Then Jesse felt Mr. White rub the belt slowly over the skin of his bottom, holding the strap of leather taut between both hands.

“Explain to me how you want to be punished.”  Mr. White said, in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

Jesse was staring straight ahead.  “I want you to whip me with your belt,” he said, bleakly.

“Alright,” Mr. White responded.  “But I didn’t hear the magic word.  Let’s try that again.  Politely.”

Jesse took a breath, let it out.  Struggled to speak calmly.  “Mr. White.  Please… _whip me with your belt_.”

A pause.  Then Mr. White’s voice.  “Very good.  We’ll proceed then.  Since you asked me so nicely.”

Jesse closed his eyes.

The whipping started. 

Mr. White concentrated the blows primarily on Jesse’s bottom, although a few fell on the tops of his thighs.  He swung the doubled up leather belt carefully, with controlled, snapping blows, stinging rather than burning.  But the pain quickly built, nonetheless.   Jesse was gasping, wincing under the belt’s lash.

Finally, the whipping stopped.  Tears were running from Jesse’s eyes.  He was panting, with hard, shuddering breaths, his head lowered.  He felt Mr. White’s hand on his bottom, fingers running lightly over the welts.

“Now Jesse, this can go on, or this can stop.  What do you want it to be?”

“I want it to stop.”  Jesse replied.

“Okay,” Mr. White said.  “So in order for this to stop, we are going to have to agree on something.  Are you listening?”

“Yes,” Jesse said.

“We are going to have to agree,” said Mr. White, “that I’m the boss of this house.  You are going to obey _my_ rules.  About neatness.  Tidyness.  Punctuality.  And any additional rules or standards I might see fit to impose on you in order to achieve a reasonably civilized life here.  And if you don’t, I will punish you.  As harshly as I see fit.  And you will _take_ that punishment willingly.  No protesting.  Because you _will_ know it is for your own good.  To encourage you to do better.   Do we have that agreement, Jesse?”

Jesse was silent.

Mr. White waited.  Then sighed.   Stepped back.  Started whipping Jesse’s bottom again, the leather belt snapping harder this time. 

Jesse began crying out, despite himself, writhing helplessly under the blows.  Mr. White continued on a little longer, then stopped.  Jesse's breath was ragged, hitching in his chest.

Mr. White stepped forward.  Put a hand on Jesse’s bottom.  Jesse recoiled painfully.  “This can start again,” Mr. White said quietly.  “We can do this all night.  Until I get your agreement.  What’s it going to be?”

Jesse was crying silently, tears running freely from his eyes.

Mr. White tapped Jesse’s bottom.  “Jesse.  Answer me.”

“I agree,” Jesse said, choked.

“And what are you agreeing with?”

“I agree that you’re the boss.”

“And what does that mean?”

“I’ll follow your rules.  About being neat.  And anything else.”

“And..?”

“And if I don’t, I’ll take your punishment.  I won’t argue.”

Mr. White was silent.  Jesse waited, head lowered.  Then he felt Mr. White behind him, embracing him gently.  His lips were on the back of Jesse’s neck.   After a moment, Jesse allowed himself to fall back against Mr. White’s body, leaning against him in exhaustion.

“Very good,” Mr. White whispered.

***

Walt glanced down at Jesse.  His eyes were closed.  He lay still, his face somewhat flushed, his head still resting against the hard bulge of Walt’s cock.  Walt stroked his hair.  “Well,” he said.  “I got through that without a single interruption.  You must have liked it.”

Jesse opened his eyes.  “How often did you use that room?” he asked. 

“Fairly often, at first,” Walt said.  “It took you awhile to get used to my ways.  To learn how to mind me the way I wanted you to.  But you got better at that.  Eventually.  With guidance.”

Jesse considered this.  “So you turned me into this kind of household slave,” he said, finally.  “Doing exactly what I was told.  Or getting tied up and whipped otherwise.  And locked up in the dark.”

Walt nodded.  “Yes,” he agreed.  “That’s pretty much what I did.  And you were happy with the situation too.  For the most part.”

Jesse glared up at him.  “How can you tell me a story like _that?_ ”  he hissed.

Walt was perplexed.  “Well you did ask me to,” he replied. 

Jesse’s eyes were cold.  He said, “That’s the most important thing for you, isn’t it.  Control.  That’s your whole deal.  That’s what really turns your crank.”

Walt frowned.  “What are you talking about?”

“This…thing, this…whatever this is you’ve got for me,” Jesse continued.  “It’s not really about _me_.  It’s about _controlling me_.  Getting _through_ to me, like you said.  Making me do what you want, whatever that happens to be.  That’s a fun challenge for you isn’t it?  A little game you’re playing with yourself before the final lights-out.”

 Walt sighed, looked away.  “I know I shouldn’t have let you persuade me to tell you that story,” he said.  “You’re making me sorry I did.”  He put a hand gently under Jesse’s head, shifting it.  “I should really get going, Jesse.  I’m sorry if I upset you.” 

Jesse sat up abruptly.  Regarded Walt silently.  Walt was struck by how still he held himself, suddenly remembering the other time Jesse had looked like this, when Walt had insisted he seek out Tuco, scoffing at his concern about the danger.  A distant, disdainful stare.

Then Jesse’s expression changed.  He glanced away.  Then leaned over and put his hand lightly on Walt’s cock.  Walt opened his mouth to speak, closed it.  Jesse stroked Walt’s cock gently through his pants.  Stopped.  Looked back at Walt, his eyes a soft blue.  ‘I’m not upset,” he said. 

Walt was silent.  Jesse smiled mildly.  “That was a great story Mr. White.  A real trip.  Sick, naturally, like you, but a real trip.”  

Walt remained silent, staring at his partner.  Jesse sat back, glancing towards the bedroom door.  “So I guess I’ll hear from you when you set up the meet,” he said, casually.  “I’ll start asking around about a tow for the RV tomorrow.”

Walt’s eyes remained on Jesse, a grim expression settling on his face.  Ignoring him, Jesse reached across the bed, picked up the pack of cigarettes.  Shook one out, lit up.  Exhaled.  Eventually looked back at Walt.  Raised his eyebrows.   “Aren’t you going?”

Walt continued to stare at him, green eyes slightly hooded behind his glasses.  Then he took his glasses off.  Folded them deliberately, laid them down.  Plucked the cigarette from Jesse’s fingers, jabbed it out in the ashtray.   Placed his hands on Jesse’s upper arms.  Jesse was watching him, expressionless.

Walt pushed Jesse down on the bed.  Leaned over him.  “I’m not going just yet,” he said. 

He let himself settle heavily onto Jesse’s body.  Pushed his hardened cock into Jesse’s groin.  Kissed him.  Jesse lay passively under him. 

“Put your arms around me,” Walt said against Jesse’s mouth.  Jesse put his arms around him lightly, hands resting on Walt’s back. 

Walt raised his head.  Looked at his partner.  Jesse returned his gaze quietly.

Walt kissed him again.  Jesse’s lips were soft, yielding.  Walt deepened the kiss.  Jesse opened his mouth cooperatively.  Still kissing him, Walt thrust his cock against him rather hard.  Jesse rubbed himself against Walt languidly.  Walt broke the kiss.

“What are you doing?” he asked his partner.

“What do you mean?”  Jesse replied.

“Don’t play games with me.”  Walt said shortly.

Jesse shook his head, smiled at Walt questioningly.  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

Walt glared at him.  Then he reached under Jesse’s shirt, rubbed a thumb roughly over one of Jesse’s nipples.  Pulled on it, hard.  Jesse gasped softly, his eyes partially closing.  He raised his mouth.

Still pulling hard on Jesse’s nipple, Walt kissed him again, not very gently.  Jesse kissed him back, sliding his tongue into Walt’s mouth.  He thrust his cock up against Walt, pressing up against Walt’s body.  His voice was a low hum in his throat.

Walt broke the kiss, raised himself up on his arms.  “I can’t do this right now,” he said, his voice strained.  “I have to go.”

Jesse looked regretful.  “Too bad.” he said.  “Can I finish my smoke now?”

Walt stared down at his partner’s face.  He loomed tensely over Jesse on the bed.  “You make me feel like smacking you,” he snapped.

Jesse smiled at him.  Then he raised his face up, offering it.  “Go ahead then,” he said.  “What’s stopping you?”  His blue eyes were steady.

Walt continued to stare at him, wordless.  Then grimacing, he levered himself off Jesse and lay down beside him, dropping an arm over him heavily.  Put his face against Jesse’s throat, his lips against the warm skin.

“You know I don’t want to go.”  Walt said.

Jesse didn’t say anything. Shrugged slightly. 

Walt felt himself relaxing against his partner’s body.  Jesse was a slim, warm presence, lying quietly under Walt's arm, his ribs softly rising and falling. 

Walt closed his eyes, defeated.  He buried his face in Jesse’s downy hair. 

“Before I go,” he murmured, “I’m going to tell you another story.”  Whispered, “I’m going to tell you a _happy_ story, about you waiting for me, in the dark…”

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

Jesse Introduces Walt to an Additional Use for the Dungeon

Jesse lay naked on the wooden floor of Mr. White’s dungeon.  The lights were off and he was lying in the heavy black darkness.  He was crying quietly, the tears running from his eyes and pooling under his cheek.   

Mr. White had finished whipping him, earlier.   Left Jesse alone for a few minutes, as was his habit. 

Jesse had still been fastened to the hanging ring.  Mr. White had lowered it, thoughtfully, to the height of Jesse’s waist, prior to exiting the room, allowing some relief to Jesse’s arms.  He’d left the lights on, shining down brightly. 

As soon as Mr. White had left, Jesse sagged to the floor, his knees buckling, clutching onto the metal ring for support.   He was panting, his head lowered.  His ass was throbbing painfully.  He knew from experience that he would be extremely sore and stiff tomorrow.  Not an unusual state of affairs for him right now.  He was getting used to living with a certain amount of discomfort.

Since Mr. White had introduced him to the dungeon, not two weeks would go by without him strapping Jesse up by his hands to the steel ring, and whaling on him with his belt.

And in between those painful sessions of course, there were still the spankings. 

To be honest, Jesse sort of enjoyed those.  Not that he would ever tell Mr. White that.  Although his partner probably knew anyway.  Sometimes Jesse deliberately provoked him, knowing what would follow.  Although that was risky.  It could be a delicate balance between provoking a spanking over Mr. White’s knee and provoking a whipping, which Jesse did _not_ enjoy.  In the least.  Which, of course, was _the point,_ Mr. White would say. 

But in any event, Jesse’s ass was getting striped quite often.  Hence the ongoing discomfort.

This situation really was incredibly bizarre. 

Jesse had been a rebellious kid.  Always disappointing his parents.  Screwing up.  And they had tried to be so reasonable with him.  Long talks.  Interventions.  Counselling yadda yadda et cetera et cetera.  Judicious grounding (not that he had paid attention to that).

Eventually working out a deal with his great aunt.  Jesse could live with her, completing his senior year of high school at her place.  Giving his parents a break and removing his toxic self from the presence of his younger brother (the brain).  In return, he could help his aunt around the house, take her to appointments and so forth.  She wasn’t as young as she was, though still spritely.  His aunt had reassured his parents she was up to having Jesse with her, and indeed, they had always gotten along great.  His aunt had been a bit of a bad ass herself, when she was young (according to her).  

She certainly understood Jesse better than his parents did.  It was totally refreshing to live with someone who wasn’t always sighing or lecturing.  Judging.  Jesse had still maintained his illegal business (dealing pot at that point, the meth came later) and the lifestyle that went with it (the money, alright? and the girls), but discreetly.  Not around his aunt, ever, although he was pretty sure she knew about it.  But she never said anything.  Never nagged at him like his parents did.  Never ambushed him when he stumbled in at 3 a.m., sitting him down at the kitchen table for a “talk.” 

The only thing she had said to Jesse was that he needed to watch his health.  Don’t do anything his body couldn’t recover from.  Be smart about that.  And be nice to others, whenever possible.  Be kind. 

And Jesse had found this advice pretty reasonable.  He’d kept his own drug use under control –strictly recreational (although that recreation could be pretty frequent).  He never allowed himself to slip into the self destructive, hardcore mentality of the true addict, where the drug came first, before anything (or anyone) else.  And for sure he saw plenty of those types. 

And he _was_ nice to people.  Always tried to treat them fairly.  If he hurt someone’s feelings, it was never because he wanted to.  He couldn’t help it if some girl (or older woman) got a crush on him just because he had sex with her, and got ideas.  He never promised anything.  And he was good to his customers.  Never cheated them.  Tried to provide a good service.  And he was decent to his friends too, looked out for them.  Those dumb sonsabitches.

So yeah, he had been doing okay, living at his great aunt’s place.  He looked out for her too.  Kept her company.  They had long talks, sitting around her kitchen table, smoking.  She told him that he was smart, that he would figure things out for himself eventually.  Would figure out how he fit into his life.  It would happen. 

He’d started to believe her.  And to be honest, this whole dealing, partying scene, it was getting boring.  He was starting to think about retiring from the business, getting out.  Figuring out what to do next.  He’d saved some cash, had some options. 

He flew some ideas by his aunt.  Tentatively. 

She didn’t laugh at him, didn’t shoot him down, didn’t dismiss his thoughts as 'dreaming,' as 'impractical.'  Didn’t compare him with his college going buddies (or his brother).  She believed in the 'infinite possibilities of the human mind' she said.  And Jesse had a fine mind.  Who said he couldn’t do whatever he set himself to do?  It would come.  He had time to grow into himself.  Figure things out.  He just had to keep himself safe in the meantime (and never forget to be kind).

She believed in him.  She was looking forward, she said, to seeing him grow into the man he was meant to be.  It would be a pleasure to watch.

No one expected terminal cancer. 

His aunt had gone down fast.  Seven months after her diagnosis, she was unrecognizable.  A wraith in body and spirit.  And worst of all, her mind had been affected badly, right at the end.  The drugs, the pain, the cancer itself.  The dying.  Her sweetness scraped away.

And Jesse had been with her, through all of it. 

After his aunt had died, he and his parents found out she had made legal arrangements for Jesse to stay on in her house.   His parents hadn’t been thrilled (Jesse was pretty sure they wanted to sell the place).  But at least Jesse had somewhere to stay that wasn’t horrible (and wasn’t with them).  They could go back to pretending he’d moved to another state.  Continue to concentrate their efforts on their other son, the child of their dreams.

So Jesse had stayed on in his aunt’s house, alone.   

And he had soon given up his tentative plans to move on from the life.  He was now heavily smoking pot, to the point that days could go by and he wouldn’t go outside, just sitting in his living room, high.  Started to hit the crystal more too, not just at parties, but at home too.   His business was starting to suffer –he just didn’t care about it that much anymore.  Lost customers, had a pretty bad argument with his suppliers.  Got into some shit with them. 

That’s how he hooked up with Emilio again.  He'd been buying meth from Emilio (for himself) and Emilio helped him out.  Made that potentially serious problem with his pot suppliers go away.  Then Emilio suggested they partner up.   Cook meth, sell it.  Jesse figured, why not?   It wasn’t like he had anything else happening.  So he did. 

Dealing meth was a whole new business.  The customers were different -sadder, scarier.  The business itself had a harder edge, a grim quality to the whole thing.  But Jesse enjoyed working with Emilio and found that he could actually make a good product.  Better by far than the shit that existed out there.  So at least his customers weren’t getting cheated, or poisoned.  He cared, alright?  And Emilio respected his skills.

So that had been okay, sort of.   Jesse didn’t think too much about it.  Almost two years, it had been.  Cap’n Cook.

And he never thought about his aunt, anymore.  Tried not to.  The way she had looked at the end, her eyes on Jesse, wild.  Her voice, harsh, cawing at him.  Jesse unable to reach her.  Dying lonely in her mind. 

Jesse had moved into her bedroom, his stuff settling in a light layer over a lifetime of his aunt’s possessions.  He kept on meaning to clear her things out, re-decorate the house (I mean, it looked like he was living with an old lady), but he never did. 

_(“Mr. White, where are you going with this?  This isn’t happy…and why all this stuff about my aunt?  What do you care about that, anyway?”_

_“Because I’ve figured something out about you, Jesse.  Why you seem like kind of an orphan.  It’s because you are, aren’t you?  Your aunt was your real family.”_

_“…yeah, well…so what?  That’s none of your business anyway.”_

_“It is now.”_

_“…what’s that supposed to mean?”_

_“I guess we’ll find out won’t we?”)_

So anyway… he’d been a rebellious kid.  Not about to listen to anybody _(other than his aunt, but she was dead)_.  Certainly not about to put up with any disciplinary shit.  Or 'advice.'  Or anything else.  Going his own way, whatever that was.

And then…Mr. White.  And all of this.  And now, Jesse was putting up with more shit than he would have ever thought possible.  For _anyone_ to put up with, let alone him.  It was ironic, really.

Mr. White was relentless.  It was like he had a vision of Jesse in his mind and he was determined to turn Jesse into that specific thing.  By any means.  It was like he was using all these rules and games, the punishments, the toys, the _dungeon_ , to break Jesse down, start him over from scratch.  Keep him clean.  Raise him right.

And Jesse was letting him.  Letting Mr. White put him through his paces, literally almost, like that horsetail he made him wear.  He was hooked somehow, on this whole thing –and he was curious, as well, to see the Jesse that Mr. White was so invested in.   If it was even possible.  The drug free, non-smoking, do-gooder, college student Jesse.   Who lived content in this beautiful house.  Flying planes.  Helping Mr. White grow his _real_ business (the meth business just a footnote) into the industry powerhouse he said it was going to be.

The Jesse of Mr. White’s mind. 

But it was really hard, sometimes, to do this _(and again, Mr. White would say that was the point –who said this was going to be easy?  Adversity is good for you, Jesse)._

And sometimes, Jesse plain couldn’t take it anymore.  Rebelled. 

And then there were consequences. 

Like tonight.

Mr. White whipping him.  Jesse crying by the end of it.  He didn’t make a point of controlling that in front of Mr. White anymore.  Found that Mr. White was harder on him if he did that.

Mr. White finished, finally.  Snapped his belt briskly between his hands.  Patted Jesse’s bottom.  “Think about this.”   Then left him. 

Jesse sinking to his knees.

Mr. White back in the room.  “Get up!  Who said you could rest?”

Jesse staying on his knees.  “I can’t man, okay?  Give me a break, already.”

Mr. White coming over, yanking on his ear.  “Up!”

Jesse jerking his head away.  “No!  Fucking undo me okay?  I want to lie down.”

Mr. White quiet.  Then his hands on the leather restraints, unlocking them, unbuckling.  Jesse, released, lying down on the floor, his cheek against the cool wood.

Mr. White stood over him, hands on his hips, thoughtful.

“Jesse,” he said.  “I’m disappointed.   I expected you to mind me.  To make an _effort._   You obviously haven’t been listening.  This whipping appears to have been wasted on you.”

Jesse lay on the floor, silent.

Mr. White prodded him with his foot.  “Jesse, I’m waiting for an answer.  What do you have to say for yourself?”

Jesse rolled himself away from Mr. White.  Glared at him.  “Don’t fucking _kick_ me, okay?  Jesus.  I’m telling you, I’m done.   You’re not getting any more _effort_ , from me, tonight.  Now leave me alone.”

Mr. White didn’t say anything for a moment.  Then answered.  “Okay.  You need a break.  I’ll give you one.  But that means we pick up again tomorrow.  And I’ll have to add in an extra punishment for your smart mouth, just now.”

Jesse stared at him.  “What are we doing tomorrow?”

Mr. White answered.  “What _you_ will be doing, is staying on your knees, since that’s so important to you.  You will be on your hands and knees all day.  _And_ you will be wearing the horsetail.  Harnessed up, nice and tight.  And leashed.  I have a few things I want to do around the house.  You can keep me company.  Tied up where I put you.  _And_ I’ll expect you to follow me around.  You can carry the leash in your mouth.”

Jesse sat up.  “Forget it, Mr. White, I’m not doing that.”

Mr. White looked at him.   Walked over to Jesse slowly.  Jesse stared up at him defiantly.  Mr. White smiled at him gently and stroked his cheek.  Jesse was confused.  “What—“

Mr. White turned and quickly walked away.  Was out of the room before Jesse could react, shutting the door behind him with a click.  Jesse rushed over, pounded on the door.  “No!  Mr. White!  Let me out!”

No answer.

Jesse pounded on the door, wildly frustrated.  “Mr. White!  You fucking bastard!  _Let me out!”_

The lights flicked off.

Jesse sank back down to the floor, in the dark.  He leaned against the silent door.  Whispered.  “Mr. _White…_ ” 

Closed his eyes.

Hours passed. 

***

That’s what it felt like anyway.

Jesse lay naked on the floor of Mr. White’s dungeon.  He had dozed off for awhile, woken up.  The same blind, dark silence.  He was crying, quietly.

He started thinking about Mr. White, leaving him in here for hours at a time.   Taking him in to this room to be whipped, humiliated, punished.  Frightened.  Whenever the game wasn’t light anymore.   When it turned real.  There was a message in this, something was really important to Mr. White about this room.  It was his weapon, his edge over Jesse in their battle for Jesse’s submission.   But maybe this room had another, additional meaning for Mr. White.  Something Mr. White wasn’t telling him.

Jesse lay on the floor, in the dark, thinking.  His tears had dried up. 

The lights came on. 

Jesse stayed where he was, lying still.  He figured Mr. White was looking at him through the camera.  Bastard.

Sure enough, after a moment, the door opened.  Mr. White in the doorway.

Jesse didn’t look at him.  Didn’t move.

“Jesse.”  Mr. White’s voice.  “I’ll have your answer now.  About our plans for tomorrow.”

Jesse turned his head.  Mr. White was standing, framed in the doorway.  He regarded Jesse quietly through his glasses.  

“And what if you don’t like my answer?”  Jesse replied.  “Are you going to leave me in here forever?”

Mr. White smiled.  Then said, chillingly, “I’ve been considering it.  Don’t tempt me.”

Jesse looked at him steadily.  Then he said, softly, “I’ll do whatever you want me to.  You’re the boss.  I’ll wear your harness.  I’ll follow you around.  I’ll eat out of your hand.  I’ll curl up at your feet.”  His voice softened further.  “I’ll go up on my knees begging you to spank me.  And I’ll thank you, after.  _I’ll be your bitch_.  That’s what you _want_ … isn’t it?”

Mr. White was staring at him, his eyes fierce.  He was still.

Jesse remained lying on the floor, curling his body towards Mr. White.  “I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” he whispered.  “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.  But I want something first…”

Mr. White’s lips barely moved, as he answered.  “What’s that?”

Jesse held out a hand, palm out, beckoning. 

“I want you to come here.   And I want you to turn the lights back out.”

Mr. White stared at him silently. Then he took off his glasses, put them in his shirt pocket.  Turned off the lights.  He was silhouetted against the light of the exterior hall, a broad shouldered, dark shape.  Then entered the room, closing the door behind him, the door locking with a click.  Black darkness.

Jesse heard Mr. White making his way carefully over to him.  A hand on Jesse’s calf.

He turned, seeking Mr. White’s hand.  Reached out his arms, locating the rest of him.  Put his head against Mr. White’s knee.  “Come here,” he whispered.

Mr. White lowered himself to the floor.  Jesse felt his partner’s body beside him.   He put his arms around Mr. White, embracing him. 

“Hold me,” he whispered, into Mr. White’s throat.

Jesse felt the rise and fall of Mr. White’s chest, the warm skin of his throat against his lips.  Mr. White’s breath was speeding up.  His arms circled Jesse.   He lay down facing Jesse, holding him closely.

Jesse pressed his body into Mr. White’s.  He brought his mouth up to his partner’s mouth.  “Kiss me,” he whispered against Mr. White’s lips.

Walt leaned forward towards Jesse’s mouth, seeking him in the dark.  The younger man’s lips were warm, silky soft.  They parted under his.  Walt put his tongue into Jesse’s mouth, touched his smooth teeth, ran the tip of his tongue over the roof of Jesse’s mouth.  Jesse was making a humming sound in his throat.  He raised his face to Walt’s, rubbing the warm sandpaper of his cheek against him. 

Walt moved his hands to either side of Jesse’s face.  Kissed him deeply.  He felt his partner’s slim body pressed closely against him, Jesse’s arms holding him.

Jesse broke the kiss, moved his mouth towards Walt’s ear, his jaw scratching gently against Walt’s cheek.  Walt felt Jesse’s eyelids flutter against him.  The long lashes.  “Take your clothes off,” Jesse whispered.  “I want to feel your skin.”

“You do that for me.”  Walt whispered back.  He felt Jesse smile.

Jesse’s hands moved to Walt’s shirt, opening it.  He slipped his hands inside.  Walt was wearing a cotton undershirt underneath.  Jesse stroked his hands over Walt’s body, over the cotton.  “Help me,” he said. 

Walt sat up, shrugged off his shirt, then pulled his undershirt up over his head.  Tossed the garments aside, losing them in the dark.  Came back to his partner.

Jesse ran his hands over the flat planes of Walt’s chest, allowing the fuzz of hair to tickle against his palms.  Walt felt him dip his head.  Jesse rubbed his cheek against Walt’s chest. 

Then his lips found one of Walt’s nipples and he took it strongly into his mouth, sucking, then biting down.

Walt winced.  He put his hand on the back of Jesse’s head, grasping a handful of the soft hair.  “Easy,” he said.

Jesse responded by biting down a little harder, then drawing back, tongue circling.  Whispered.  “Do you want me to do the other one?”

Walt smiled.  “Yes,” he said.

Jesse complied.  Walt was motionless, concentrating on the feel of Jesse’s hot mouth, smooth teeth and rasping tongue on his sensitive flesh.

Then Jesse’s hands moved to Walt’s waist.  He unbuckled Walt’s belt, undid the button of his jeans, unzipped the fly.  Slipped a hand inside the narrow opening, grasped Walt’s cock through the cotton of his underwear. 

“Mm,” Walt murmured.  He thrust his hardened cock against Jesse’s palm, felt his partner’s fingers curl around him.  Jesse was kissing him again, more intensely, pressing against Walt’s lips, his tongue darting into Walt’s mouth.

“Take these off, Mr. White,” Jesse said.  He was breathing softly into Walt’s mouth, his hand warm against Walt’s cock.  “I want you to fuck me.”

Walt released Jesse, stood up.  Quickly shucked off his jeans and underwear, pulled off his socks.  Re-joined his partner on the floor, his hands reaching out, finding Jesse’s satiny skin, then carefully levering himself back to lie heavily between Jesse’s legs, pressing him to the floor.  He braced his arms on both sides of Jesse and leaned down to kiss him again.  He felt the younger man’s cock, hard and warm, pushing against him.

Jesse had lifted his chin up, his lips seeking Walt’s.  He touched Walt’s mouth with his tongue.  His hands were on the back of Walt’s head, fingers pressing into the prickly bare skin of Walt’s scalp.

Walt lifted his head.  “Turn over.” he whispered.

“No,” Jesse whispered back.  “I want you to fuck me this way.  Keep kissing me.”

“Okay,” Walt replied.  He sat back, put his hands gently under Jesse’s thighs to raise his bottom.  “Lift up.”   He stroked the undersides of Jesse’s thighs, then ran his hands very gently over the welted skin of Jesse’s bottom.  He found the anus, touching it lightly, then put a thumb in his mouth, wetting it, and placing it on the tender hot skin, rubbing the moisture around the opening.  “I’ll try not to hurt you.”  Walt said.  Jesse was silent in the dark, waiting.  Walt heard him breathing evenly.

Walt knelt between Jesse’s legs and placed both thumbs against his anus, stretching it, then put the blunt head of his cock against the narrow opening.  He started pushing in, slowly.  Heard Jesse’s breath catch.

He kept on pushing himself in, carefully, giving Jesse’s body time to adjust as much as possible.  Jesse’s breath was rasping in his throat.  “Mr. White,” Jesse’s voice was strained.  “That hurts.”

Walt paused.  “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.  But be careful with me, okay?”

“I’m being very careful with you, Jesse.”   Walt resumed his slow assault.  He felt Jesse’s body tensing, shivering around his cock, heard him breathing harshly in and out.  “I love your tight ass.” Walt whispered to his partner.

He was in, sheathed in Jesse’s body to the hilt.   Walt placed both hands on the floor, balancing himself.  Then began carefully moving his cock inside Jesse, the warm, tight enclosure gripping him.   He bent his head towards his partner’s unseen face, found Jesse’s mouth.   Kissed him again.

Jesse’s mouth opened under his.  He put his tongue into Walt’s mouth.   His hands came up to clasp the back of Walt’s head. 

As Jesse touched him, Walt felt a kind of loosening, an opening of himself.  The feel of Jesse, unseen in the dark -the silky glide of his skin, soft tickle of his hair, his wet mouth, the hot pressure of his body around Walt’s cock, his arms surrounding him.  It was like Walt had found a treasure, hidden, one that could only be approached blind, accessed only with a secret code.  A golden treasure, at the core of everything.

Walt felt himself losing control.  He shut his eyes, a second layer of blindness.  Started thrusting harder.   

Jesse moaned into his mouth.

Walt was breaking down, finally.   He thrust with a hard, relentless pressure into Jesse’s body, kissing him intently.   His awareness had narrowed down only to his young partner, who was moaning, shuddering under him.   He was losing himself in Jesse.  Nothing else mattered but this.

A wave of intense pleasure broke over Walt, cresting, rolling over him, carrying him helplessly.  He was crying out in the dark.  Felt Jesse’s cock pulsing against his belly.  Heard Jesse’s throaty voice keening, sliding with rough rapture over his ears.   Walt bent and sealed his mouth across Jesse’s, swallowing the irresistible sounds.  Then came, shatteringly, into him. 

Walt lay on his side, on the floor, an arm stretched out beside his head, acting as a pillow for Jesse, who was facing him, resting on him.  Jesse had draped an arm over Walt’s waist. 

Walt stroked Jesse’s face, trailing his fingers over the fine bones.  He felt the rasp of Jesse’s cheek as his partner rubbed his face against Walt’s arm. 

Jesse asked.  “What are your plans for me tomorrow?”

Walt felt his chest tighten, took a deep breath.   He continued to stroke Jesse’s cheek.  “I have no plans,” he said quietly.  “Just being with you.  No plans other than that.”

Jesse’s voice was soft. “You’re not going to make me do what you said?”

“No. Not tomorrow.”

Jesse was silent.  Then asked, “Why not?”

“Because I can’t do that to you right now,” Walt replied.

Walt felt Jesse’s eyelashes brush against his skin.  He had pressed his face against Walt’s arm. 

“I meant what I said,” his voice was muffled.  “I would do it.”

“I know.”

Tears were running down Jesse’s face, pooling on Walt’s arm.  Jesse said, “You changed your mind because I fucked you?”

“No.”

“Why then?”

“Because I remembered something about you,” Walt said.  “I remembered that…you make me totally happy.  Even when you drive me crazy.” 

Jesse was silent.  Walt felt his face pressed against him, Jesse's body lying warmly beside him.  He folded his arms around his partner.  Said, “And I also remembered that… I don’t care that you do.  You can drive me crazy all you want.  Just having you with me.  That’s all that really matters.”

Jesse was still silent.  But Walt felt him listening.  He continued.  “And I’m always with you.  I can’t help it.  If you’re lonely, I’m lonely.  If you’re sad, then I’m sad.  And when I punish you…when I lock you away in here…I’m with you too.  Locked away in the dark.”

“But you punish me anyway,” Jesse said quietly. 

“Yes,” Walt agreed.“I’m here to finish the job of raising you.And neither of us seems to do things the easy way.  It’s not in our nature.”

Jesse didn't reply.  Walt felt him breathing quietly.  He bent his head towards Jesse’s ear.  Whispered, “But Jesse, I’m not with you just to control you.  I’m with you because _I adore you_.  Not because I’m playing a game with you.  _But because I adore you.”_  

Walt ran his hand down Jesse’s slim, silky back, his palm touching the knobs of Jesse’s spine.  Felt Jesse respond, press closer to him.  “You’re in front of me,” Walt murmured.  “You’re with me, every time I close my eyes.”

***

Dusk had fallen.

Walt opened his eyes. 

He had finished speaking.  The room was dark, the sky an intense cobalt blue outside the windows.

Jesse faced him, lying quietly under Walt’s arm.  His eyes were on Walt, their colour reflecting the falling night. 

Walt looked back at him.  As he finished speaking he felt a great silence in himself, like that final sentence had emptied him, hollowed him out.  He stared at Jesse wordlessly.

Jesse’s face, on the pillow beside him.  His delicate, pale features like polished marble in the shadowy room.  The dark blue eyes, quiet.

Walt was struck again by the remote quality of Jesse's looks -how they distanced him, somehow, from everyone else.  He saw how Jesse's beauty could force someone into an observer's role only, diminishing both Jesse and themselves. Compelled to look but then regarding Jesse somewhat impersonally, like admiring a view. Or perhaps resenting him, for the effect he had, just by his presence.  

Just as Walt had both desired and resented him.  A beauty separating Jesse from the people around him. Walt couldn't imagine he'd asked for that.

He reached out and traced a finely curved cheekbone. 

“I do adore you,” Walt said quietly.  “That part isn’t just a story.  That’s for real.”

Jesse’s eyes stayed on him, shadowed.

Then he leaned forward, put an arm around Walt’s body.  Walt watched him silently.   Jesse slowly placed his lips against Walt’s mouth.  Walt lay motionless, not responding. 

Jesse kissed him again.  Then again, slipping his tongue between Walt’s lips.  Walt closed his eyes, letting Jesse kiss him quietly.  Jesse was taking his time, playing gently with Walt’s mouth.  His breath whispered over Walt’s lips.  Walt felt his heart speed up.  He made an effort to remain still, letting Jesse do what he would.

Jesse drew back. 

Walt opened his eyes slowly.  Jesse was looking at him.  “You said I made you happy.”  he said.

“Yes,” said Walt.  “You do.”

Jesse’s eyes were glistening.  “But I feel sad.” he whispered.

“I know.”  Walt replied.  Jesse stared at him.

Walt leaned forward and kissed him.  Stroked Jesse’s back.  “I would like to make you happy.” he said.  “Somehow.”

Jesse gazed at him a moment longer.  Then he leaned forward and put his face against Walt’s chest.  Closed his eyes.  Walt continued to stroke his back.  “I don’t want to see you be alone,” Walt whispered.  Jesse didn’t answer.  But then he slowly rubbed his cheek against Walt’s chest.

Walt continued to hold him, quietly.  Eventually Jesse raised his head, looked at Walt again.  Full night had fallen and the room was very dark.  Walt could barely see his partner’s face, but it seemed that his expression had altered. Softened. 

“You should probably go,” he said to Walt.  ‘It’s late.”

Walt sighed.  “Yeah.”  He untangled himself from Jesse and got up.  Stood by the bed, gazing down at his partner.  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Walt gave Jesse a final glance, then turned.  Left the room.

Jesse listened to Mr. White’s steps on the stairs.  Then the front door closing.  The rumble of Mr. White’s car, pulling away. 

He lay on the bed in the darkened room, staring up at the ceiling.  His aunt’s bedroom, where she had spent so many hours, after she had gotten too sick to do much for herself. 

Jesse with her, right to the very end.

The memories of that terrible time came back suddenly, painfully sharp and clear.  Jesse thought back to what Mr. White had said.  Mr. White had figured something out, alright.  He’d seen something that no one else had picked up on, or cared to, not even Jesse himself.   For these last two years, despite the blur of activity -the dealing, the partying, his customers, Jesse had been alone.  The commotion of Jesse’s life was merely noise, in an echoing vortex. 

With Jesse, at its centre, alone.

Jesse felt tears rising again.  Shook his head.  Since Mr. White had forced his way so abruptly into Jesse’s life, this happened way too often.  More tears than he could remember…ever.  Not when his aunt had finally died.  Not ever.  It was like his former teacher had tapped into a salty underground spring Jesse hadn’t known about before.  But now it was welling up.

Jesse lay looking up at the ceiling, the tears quietly slipping down his face.  Did Mr. White love him?  He had more or less said so.   

But Mr. White didn’t think he was going to live long, either.   

Mr. White was with Jesse, not because he saw a future with him, but because he saw _no_ future.  At all.  He had nothing to lose.  As he had said to Jesse, 'why not?'  No reason not to take what Jesse was offering.  It made him happy, he said.  His gift.

Jesse closed his eyes.  Maybe he deserved this. 

His parents loved him, he knew.  But they didn’t understand him, they were so disappointed.  Loving him was painful, for both them and him. 

His aunt had loved him, he knew.  But she was dead.  And hadn’t known him, at the end.  Had been so angry, with him sitting beside her, helpless to do anything.

 _Adored._  Mr. White’s words. 

Jesse had been adored before.  Sometimes annoyingly so.  It had never meant that much to him. 

Until now. 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Walt had just arrived home.  He was collapsed on his living room couch, still in his jacket, head resting back, eyes closed, exhausted. 

He had driven quickly back to his house after leaving Jesse.  Let himself quietly in, putting down his bag.  The living room was neat, dimly lit.  Skyler nowhere to be seen (a relief, to be honest). 

Walt felt his own home settle around him.  The subdued colours.   The dense arrangements of furniture and decorative items accrued through a decade and a half of married life.  An intimately familiar space, but he could take no comfort from it right now.   The hours he had spent with Jesse were still with him, creating a distance between himself and his surroundings. 

Soft steps.  Walt opened his eyes.  Skyler was standing in front of him, a glass of orange juice held out towards him.  Walt looked up at her.   Reached to take the offered juice, one hand circling the cold glass, the other caressing the warm soft hand of his wife. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.”  Skyler leaned towards him, smiling.  “So how was it?”  she asked, referring to the supposed sweat lodge trip.  Tilted her head quizzically.  “Was it an…experience?” 

Walt smiled tiredly back at her.  His beautiful blonde wife, voluptuous in a tight black pullover, solicitous, bending over him gracefully.  Her round, pregnant belly.   “Yeah.  It was definitely an experience .”

Skyler grinned at him, blue eyes amused.  Leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Walt’s forehead.  Then drew back slightly, frowning.

“What’s that smell?”

“Oh.”  Walt gestured vaguely with one hand.  “Yeah, it’s…sacred Navaho herbs.”   A half smile, self deprecating.

His wife raised her eyebrows, still leaning over him.  Then straightened up, sighing.  Flopped down on the couch beside Walt, closing her eyes.  She no longer looked amused.

Walt glanced at her.  “Hey.  Is everything okay?”

Skyler opened her eyes, staring glumly at nothing.  “I don’t know.”  Sighed.  “No.  Not really.”  She gave a humourless snort of laughter.  “Actually, not at all.”  Walt raised his head, his expression suddenly intensely concerned. 

Skyler wasn’t looking at him.  Continued.  “You know that… _tiara_ that Marie gave us?  Well...she _stole_ it.”

Walt’s face relaxed.  Skyler glanced at him to check the effect of her words, not noticing his comparative relief.  “I practically got arrested trying to return it at the store.”

Walt shook his head in sympathetic shock.  “Oh my god.”

Skyler’s expression thinned, her voice tightening.  “And she _refuses_ to admit it.  She _refuses_ to apologize.  I - I don’t know what to do!”  She shook her head, distressed.  Walt placed a comforting hand on her knee.  They were both quiet for a moment. 

Walt gazed meditatively down at the glass of juice in his other hand.  “Oh well…” he began.  Looked up, patted his wife’ knee tentatively.  “People sometimes _do things_ for their families…”

Skyler looked at him.  “People sometimes… _do things for their families?”_ She repeated, incredulously.  “And what, that justifies…. _stealing?_ ”  

Walt shrugged, looking away.  “Well…yeah.”

Skyler was shaking her head, staring at him.  “Wow.  That must have been some sweat lodge.”  Laughed.   “Have you been _listening_ to the words coming out of your mouth?”

Walt smiled slightly.  Looked down at the glass of juice again and then into the distance, still not meeting his wife’s eyes.  Asked.  “What would you do if it were me?”

Skyler frowned.  Her husband’s voice had lowered suddenly, deepening an octave.  She responded carefully, “What do you mean… ‘if it were you?’”

“If it were me,” Walt repeated, “what would you do?”  He tapped his fingers on the glass of juice.  “Would you…divorce me?  Would you…turn me into the police?”

Skyler was silent.  Walt finally turned his head to look at her.  His wife was staring back at him, her large blue eyes concerned.  Then her expression changed, a sardonic glint.  She leaned deliberately towards Walt, putting a hand lightly on his chest.   Shook her blonde hair at him in a way that would have been flirtatious, except for her cool, somewhat mocking blue gaze.    

“You don’t want to find out,” she said softly, close to Walt’s mouth.  Met his eyes, smiling.   Then kissed him, her soft lips parting.

Walt leaned automatically into his wife’s kiss.  Skyler’s mouth caressed his, lingering for a moment.  Then she drew back.

Walt gazed silently at his wife.  Skyler gave him a last, speaking glance, and looked away.  Sighed, her hands going to her distended belly.  She levered herself awkwardly up off of the couch, casually patting Walt’s shoulder.  “Do you want something to eat?”  She walked out of the room.

Walt remained slouched against the soft back of the couch, the untouched glass of orange juice balanced absently on his stomach.  He was tapping his fingers against it again.  “No thanks,” he said.  Heard Skyler’s steps retreating down the hallway. 

Walt’s hand stilled on the cold glass, his artificially cheerful expression fading away. 

That look in Skyler’s eyes.  Quizzical, a little cynical, often amused, often exasperated.  Most often tender, her eyes on him.  And on their son, always.  His wife’s characteristic, mildly philosophical blue gaze.  One of the things he loved about her. 

But then that other blue gaze. 

Glistening, blazing, naked.  His partner’s raw gaze, searing across Walt’s skin like a crackle of light. 

Jesse.

Walt tilted his head back, staring vacantly ahead of him. 

Skyler had been very clear with him just now. 

She wasn’t ready to know him other than how she now knew him.  Maybe would never be ready.  Had shown him how threatened she was by the mere hint he might be anything more, by threatening _him_. 

_You don’t want to know._

Driving back to his home, Walt had been tempted to tell Skyler about Jesse.  About the meth.  About everything.  She was his wife.  He wanted to share things that were important to him, with her.

And Jesse was important.  Being with Jesse had changed him.

More than the cancer diagnosis, more than his (admittedly somewhat clumsy) foray into this illegal, hopefully highly profitable methamphetamine business.  Sure those things had affected his outlook and his behaviour.

But Jesse had changed _him_.  Walt felt it, deep down, at a cellular level, a change in the substance of his own being.  Like a chemical conversion, from clay to ceramic, his time with Jesse had changed him. 

Transformed him, through the searing heat of their contact, into something lighter, harder, stronger.  Into something with an edge that, honed, would be sharper than steel.

This new Walt was exciting.  Walt badly wanted Skyler to meet him.  And he also wanted her to get to know the person who had caused this change in him.  His young partner. 

But that was clearly impossible.  As Skyler had just now reminded him.

Walt’s face became expressionless.   He stared quietly in front of him.  Eventually closed his eyes.

***

Opened them to look upon another carefully furnished living room, this one suffused with a warm, salmon toned light.  A fire flickering quietly in the generous hearth.  Outside the large floor-to-ceiling windows, the clear night desert sky, scattered with faraway stars.

***

A Vacation at the Desert House - Jesse, Skyler and Walt hanging out together on their couch and subsequently

Skyler and Walt were sitting close together on the long low couch in their living room, feet up on the ottoman, turned towards a fire lit in the fieldstone hearth.  The large room was dim other than a couple of lamps and the soft light of the flames.  They were leaning against each other, legs touching, hands idly clasped.  Skyler’s head was back against Walt’s shoulder.

It was August.  They had decided to spend some time at their New Mexico desert house, meeting Jesse here, before Holly went back to school.  Jesse was just home after an extended trip, first Shanghai and then Munich, the ground work for their new lab/manufacturing facility now underway.  He would be flying out again within a couple of weeks.

Everyone had missed him.  Holly had been tremendously excited all day, spotting Jesse through the crowd and barrelling towards him on her short legs, when they picked him up at the airport. 

“Jesse!”

Jesse caught her up in his arms, groaning exaggeratedly.  “Holly…you are _so heavy…”_

“I know, I’m so big now!”

“Yup.”  He swung her around in a circle.  Looked towards Skyler and Walt, who were walking towards him, smiling.  “Hi guys.”

“Hi you.”  They embraced him.  Holly protested.  “Mommy, Daddy you’re squashing me!”

“Sorry kiddo.”   Walt released his tight grip on his partner.   “You got any bags?”

“No, just this.”  Jesse indicated the carry-on he'd put down to pick up Holly.  The little girl was still clinging to him like a limpet, now riding on his hip.  Walt picked up the bag.  “Holly, get down now,” he said to his daughter.

“No!”

“It’s okay,” Jesse said.  “I can put up with her for a little while longer.  Hey Holly?”  Bussing her cheeks.  “Can I put up with you a little longer?”

Holly was laughing.  “That tickles!”

“Should I stop?”

“No, do more!”

Skyler put her hand on Jesse’s waist, turning him towards the exit.  “Come on kids, let’s get going.”

The four of them making their way towards the glass exit doors, the sunny day blazing brightly outside.

Now later, after a leisurely dinner.  Lingering over plates of Rosa’s delicious cooking and a bottle of wine.  A chance for a face to face conversation on the events of the past few weeks.  The business continuing to unfold at its now familiar, breakneck pace, with Jesse, Skyler and Walt each immersed in their respective roles.

Holly had gotten restless.  “Mommy, can I go now?  This is boring!”

“Sure honey.  It’s time for you to go to bed soon, anyway.  Maybe we’ll get Rosa to give you a bath.”

“Okay.  Jesse, can you come read me a story, after?”

“Sure honey.”

“Rosa can you take her?  We’ll clear up.”

The three of them, tidying up after the meal, laughing in the kitchen.

And now Jesse, with Holly, reading her a story.  Walt and Skyler on the living room couch, leaning companionably against each other.

Walt was sipping from a glass of cognac.  “Want any?”

“No thanks.”  Skyler’s eyes were closed.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I’m taking Holly to see Hank and Marie.  Probably spend the day with them.  They’ve been dying to see her.  And you?”

“Nothing much.  Just hang out here.  I could use the rest.”

Skyler patted his knee.  “I know.  You’ve been going flat out.  But it sounds like you’re really close.”  Referring to Walt’s recent research.

“Yep.”  Walt leaned his head back, resting against his wife.  He closed his eyes also.  “It should be good.”

Jesse was back in the room.  “Hey.”

“Hey.  She asleep?”

“Uh huh.”   Jesse walked around the couch to stand over Skyler and Walt.  Plucked the glass of cognac out of Walt’s hand and drained it.

Walt raised his eyebrows at him.  “You’re welcome.”

“I know.”  Jesse put the empty glass down on the end table.  Then flopped down lengthwise on the couch beside Walt, on Walt’s free side.  Turned to face the fire.  Settled his head in Walt’s lap.

Walt stroked his hair.  “It’s good to have you home.”

“Yeah.”  Jesse gazed idly into the flames. 

After a moment, Jesse reached an arm across Walt, finding Skyler’s hand. 

“It’s good to be home,” he said.

***

The fire had died down, red embers only.

Skyler stood up, stretched.   “I’m off to bed.”  Looked at the other two.  “You coming?”

Jesse got up.  “I am.”

Walt stayed sprawled on the couch.  “I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Get the lights?”

“Sure.”

Skyler held out her hand to Jesse, who took it.  Together, they left the room.

Walt rested a little longer on the couch, eyes on the glowing embers.  Eventually got up, yawning.  Sprinkled sand on the dying fire, putting it out.  Checked the glass doors and the front door.  Locked.  Then turned off the rest of the lights.  Walked down the hallway towards the master bedroom.

When he opened the bedroom door, he paused for a moment, taking in the sight.

Curtains were drawn over the windows of the large, gently curving room, blocking out the black night.  The room was dimly lit by one bedside lamp, casting a soft warm glow.

Skyler and Jesse were lying together on the wide, low bed, naked except for the cotton bedsheet, facing each other, their arms around each other.  They were kissing each other, quietly. 

Walt closed the door behind him.  His wife and young partner glanced towards him briefly, then turned back to each other.  Walt walked into the room.  He regarded Skyler’s clothes, tossed carelessly over a chair.  Jesse’s clothes were nowhere in sight.  Neatly put away.  Walt undressed, folding away his pants, hanging up his belt, and putting the rest of his clothes in the laundry hamper.  Walked naked into the bathroom, washed up, brushed his teeth.  Came back out, looking again towards the bed. 

Skyler was lying on her back, head against the soft cotton pillows.  Jesse leaned over her, his head bent over her generous breasts.  He had taken one nipple into his mouth, a hand around her breast, cupping it.  Skyler had her hands clasped around the back of Jesse’s head.  Her eyes were closed.

Walt padded over to the bed, stood over it.  Jesse’s skin was gleaming in the dim light of the room, the sleek muscles of his back and arms flexing.  Walt leaned over and ran his hand down Jesse’s satiny back to his bottom, stroking one smooth cheek.  Jesse paused, looked over his shoulder.  His eyes were half lidded, long lashes veiling his blue gaze.  “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Jesse looked at him.  Walt straightened.

“Don’t stop,” he said. 

Jesse turned back to Skyler, his mouth on her breast, nuzzling.   She lay quietly, eyes still closed, eyebrows furrowed slightly, her hands on Jesse’s shoulders.  Jesse raised his head, sat back.  Drew the sheet off the rest of Skyler’s body, exposing her, the silky belly, generously curved hips, gleaming long legs.  He placed one hand over the trim golden thatch of her pussy, cupping her.   Skyler raised her knees, opening.  Jesse rubbed his thumb against her clit.

“Put your mouth on her,” said Walt quietly.  Skyler opened her eyes, looked at her husband.  He smiled back at her.

Jesse glanced briefly at Walt, then bent his head, burying his face against Skyler’s pussy.  He jabbed his tongue against her clit, scraping hard against it with his tongue.  Skyler moaned, her hands coming to clutch against Jesse’s hair.

Keeping an intense pressure on Skyler’s clit with his tongue, Jesse took two fingers and inserted them into her pussy.  Skyler arched her back, pressing up against Jesse’s mouth and hand.  A flush suffused her body.  Walt could see she was close to coming.

“Jesse,” he whispered.  “Turn her over and put her up on her hands and knees.  I want to see her breasts swinging down.”

Jesse raised his head, glancing again at Walt.  Then he sat up, put his hands on Skyler’s hips and urged her over onto her belly.  Knelt behind her and pulled her up onto her hands and knees.  Skyler bent her head forward, observing her own heavy breasts as they swung down beneath her body, hanging like ripe fruit.  Then she raised her head, looked over her shoulder, met Walt’s eyes.  Raised her eyebrows at him.

Walt observed her quietly through his glasses.   He smiled at the sight of his wife, balanced on the bed, her lush white ass raised up, her graceful back, with flaring hips leading to a long narrow waist, slender shoulders braced, and then the large, soft breasts, hanging down.   “Jesse,” he said, “put your hand on her pussy.”

Jesse reached a hand between Skyler’s legs, cupping his hand around the soft lips of her pussy.  Felt the moisture against his palm.  He pressed a finger against her wet clit.  Skyler gasped, arching her back, her bottom curving out.  Jesse rested his other hand on Skyler’s hip, bent over her and put his lips against her soft skin.  Turned to rub his cheek against the smooth tabletop of her back.

Walt took off his glasses and put them on the bedside table.  Then he climbed onto the bed and lay down close beside his wife, putting his face beneath hers.   He reached out and cupped a hand around a breast, feeling its warm weight sink against his palm.  Took in the sight of Skyler’s body, displayed above him, the other breast swinging down gently, her slim thighs braced apart, creating a shapely silhouette as she balanced on her knees.   Jesse’s head resting on her, his hand covering her pussy. 

Walt looked up at his wife’s flushed face, meeting her blue gaze.  Looking into her eyes, he said, “Please fuck her, Jesse.”

Jesse straightened, opened Skyler from behind with one hand and guided his cock into her with the other, entering her with a single, rather hard thrust.   Walt was watching Skyler’s face as she took Jesse’s cock inside her, saw her brows twitch together, her mouth open on a sharp intake of breath.

Jesse had grasped Skyler’s hips with both hands, bracing her.  He started to thrust into her strongly.  Walt watched her breasts sway with the movement of her body.  He raised his mouth under hers.  “Kiss me, sweetheart.”

Skyler dipped her head, covered Walt’s mouth with her own.  Put her tongue into Walt’s mouth.  Walt reached an arm down under her belly, his hand finding her pussy.  Pressed his fingers firmly up against her clit as she rocked against him, propelled forward as Jesse thrust into her. 

Skyler started to moan into Walt’s mouth.  She sank forward, further arching her back, lowering her breasts towards Walt, pushing her ass back against Jesse, pressing her pussy against the fingers of Walt’s hand.  Walt broke the kiss briefly, said to his partner.  “Fuck her hard Jesse, I want the two of you to come together.”  Then found his wife’s mouth again.

Jesse felt the smooth glide of fluids bathing his cock, Skyler’s internal muscles shivering around him.  He leaned over her, whispering.  “C’mon Skye, you can do it.”  Thrust into her again, felt his own orgasm overtake him as Skyler started shuddering, the flesh of her clit caught against the hook of Walt’s fingers, her pussy closing tightly around Jesse’s cock, with him gasping, coming strongly into her.

Skyler was collapsed face down, partially on the bed, partially on Walt.  Jesse lay beside her, one arm thrown across her back.  He’d put his face into the curve between her neck and shoulder.  Both of them were covered in a fine sheen of sweat.  They were lying quietly, breath slowing.

Walt started stroking Skyler’s side and back.  “Don’t go to sleep sweetheart, we’re not done yet.”

Skyler groaned.  “Walt—“

“What?  Where’s your sense of responsibility?”

“What about Jesse?”

“I’m saving Jesse for later.  Come on, now.”  Walt grasped his wife gently by the shoulders, turning her to face him.  Jesse had lifted his head, looking at Walt over Skyler’s shoulder.  Walt paused, momentarily arrested by the two sets of blue eyes, the level grey-blue and the intense sky blue, both so close to him, both staring at him somewhat grumpily.

Then he pushed Skyler onto her back, so that she was resting partially on Jesse.  Jesse’s hands came up automatically, supporting her.   Walt nodded at him.  “That’s it.  Hold her for me, Jesse.”  His hand went to Skyler’s pussy, gently probing.

Skyler winced.  “Careful Walt, I’m kind of sore.”

“I’ll be careful.”  Walt put his fingers delicately inside her, touching the slick, lubricated flesh, moist with a mixture of her own and Jesse’s fluids.  Then opened her and pushed his own hard cock slowly in, feeling Skyler’s body receive him, close around him with its familiar velvety warmth. He started to thrust inside her, rocking her body back gently against Jesse as he held Skyler from behind.

Skyler felt herself surrounded, enfolded in the shared embrace of these two men who she loved, the older one, her companion since before she was Jesse's age, and the younger one, for whom she felt such intense tenderness, only a few years older than her son.  Walt had started kissing her again, his closely cropped beard and moustache brushing her skin.  Jesse held her closely, his warm body cradling hers, his face again buried in the curve of her neck.  He had pressed his lips against her skin.

Skyler opened her lips against Walt’s mouth, letting him in.  She leaned her head back against Jesse, feeling the soft tickle of his hair.  She put her arms around Walt, pressing her breasts against him.  Felt one of Jesse’s hands grasp her bottom, cupping it.

Walt started to thrust inside her more strongly, his large, hard cock filling her, moving easily.  Skyler felt pleasure build inside her again, slowly, the gradual re-kindling of a fire.  She was opening, yielding against the weight of her husband’s body, falling back against Jesse who was holding her, bracing her against him.

She felt Walt bearing down, the well known, laserlike focus of his energy on her, his muscles hardening under her arms and hands.  His large hands were grasping her hips, as he thrust more rapidly, strongly into her.  She felt pleasure start to shimmer within her pussy, held so firmly against her husband by the pressure of Jesse’s body behind her.  Walt had broken their kiss.  Skyler leaned her head forward, putting her face against Walt’s chest.  Her breath was shuddering in her throat.  She heard and felt the low rumble of Walt’s rough baritone as his orgasm started to roll through him.  And then felt Jesse’s slender hand reaching around her hip, his fingers delving deep between her legs, pressing against her clit, flicking it like a lightswitch.  Skyler cried out, the pleasure spiralling uncontrollably through her, breaking her apart, as Walt came heavily into her.

Skyler was quiet, her head resting against Walt’s chest, her arms snuggled around his body.

Walt looked at Jesse over Skyler’s shoulder. 

He found the back of Jesse’s hand as it rested against Skyler’s hip, ran his fingers over it.   Jesse raised his head.

 Walt stared into the blue eyes.  He moved his lips, silently, mouthing the words over Skyler’s bent head.

“Say my name.”

Jesse looked back at him, startled.

Walt held Jesse’s eyes, his own eyes narrowing.  His lips shaped the silent words again.  _“Say my name.”_

Walt watched Jesse’s face as his partner registered his request.  Saw Jesse’s expression break open, the familiar, raw vulnerability softening his features.  His gaze became defocused, a little distant, as if Walt's words had submerged him under a wave of cool water. 

Jesse's lips parted.

Walt continued staring at him.  Repeated, _"Say it.”_

Jesse’s eyes were abruptly present, locked on Walt with a pained intensity.  In their shared glance, the knowledge of what was between them, of what would happen between them, tomorrow. 

Jesse’s reminder.

Jesse closed his eyes.  Opened them again, slowly.  Met his partner's cold green gaze.

Whispered, “ _Mr. White…”_


	17. Chapter 17

Walt felt a hand on his shoulder.  He opened his eyes.

Skyler was behind him.   “Walt…”

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?  You haven’t even taken your jacket off.”

“Oh…”  Walt rubbed the corners of his eyes under his glasses.  “You’re right.  I must have dozed off.”

Skyler kissed the top of his head.  “Poor old thing.”

Walt turned his head.  “What?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him.  “You know.  Dozing off on the couch.”

Walt looked at her.  “Are you calling me old?”

“Well, you’re not young.  Sorry, Walt.”

Walt stood up.  Took off his jacket, deliberately, and folded it, laying it down.  Then he walked around the back of the couch to where Skyler stood.  She had changed for bed, was dressed in a flowing, peach silk kimono tied loosely under her breasts.  Her feet were bare.  Walt put his hands on his wife’s upper arms.  Looked at her.

Skyler stood still within Walt’s grasp, gazing back at him.  She smiled uncertainly.  “Walt?”

He shook her once, gently.  “That was rather uncalled for.  If you weren’t pregnant, I’d put you over my knee.”

Skyler laughed incredulously.  “Seriously?” 

Walt gazed at her, his eyes half lidded.  “What do you think?”

Skyler cocked her head at him.  Then she put her arms loosely around Walt’s waist.  Her round belly pushed against him, gently.  “I think…you sound serious alright,” she said.  Smiled.  “I’m rather intrigued.”

“Hmm.”  Walt took two fingers and pushed them into the soft notch between Skyler’s legs, rubbing the silk of her kimono up against the warm flesh.   Skyler’s grey blue eyes widened.  Her lips parted.

Walt raised his fingers a bit roughly between Skyler’s legs, using them like a hook to pull her towards him.  Skyler fell slightly against him, clumsy with her large belly.  Her hands went to his shoulders.  She was laughing.  “Walt-!”

He bent his head, kissed her.  “Come on.  Let’s go to bed.”   Removed his intruding fingers and took Skyler’s hand.   Together they walked down the hallway towards their bedroom, Skyler smiling at him sidelong.

But once they were in bed, undressed, Walt paused.  Said to his wife, “I’m sorry Skyler, I can’t.  Too tired.  I’ve had a long day.”

Skyler regarded him sympathetically.  “That’s okay…can you rub my back?”

“Sure.”   

She turned around, presenting her silky back to him.  Walt reached out and stroked her.

“Mmm…do my lower back.”

“Okay.”  He moved his hand down, fingers digging in. 

“Ohh…yes, that’s it.  Keep going.”

“Okay sweetheart.”  Walt kept rubbing her.  Skyler lay quietly under his hand.  Eventually Walt felt her breathing slow.  

Walt’s hand stilled. 

Skyler was asleep, her breathing quiet and even.  Walt watched her for awhile -her graceful, naked back, absurdly slender against the round bulge of her belly, the soft blonde hair, one smooth skinned arm folded against her large breasts with their round, pink nipples.  Her breasts had always driven him crazy.

He had a beautiful wife. 

Walt sighed.  Then drew the bedcovers up over his wife’s shoulders.  Turning away from her, he reached out and switched off the bedroom lamp.  Lay on his back and stared off into the dark space above his head.

Eventually closed his eyes.

***

Skyler was standing naked in front of the wide glass doors of the bedroom. She had drawn back the curtains, allowing the bright pale light of the desert morning to spill in.  She gazed out towards the hazy blue mountains, distant over dry golden plains of grass.  She loved the New Mexico desert.  Coming back to this beautiful place never failed to lift her spirits.

She glanced towards the bed.  Jesse was sleeping on his stomach, under a mound of covers, his head buried in a pillow.  One foot was exposed, dangling off the side of the bed. 

Skyler smiled.  Turned to look at her husband, who had just come out of the bathroom.  He was dressed for a run.  Walt walked over to her, kissed her on the lips.  “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“I won’t be long.”

“Okay.  Holly and I are going to get going right after breakfast.”

“Sure.  What about Rosa?”

“She’s taking the day off.  Visiting her mom.  I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already left.”

“Fine.  See you in a bit.”  Walt kissed her briefly again, then let himself out through the glass doors.  Crossed the patio outside and disappeared around the side of the house.

Skyler walked back to stand beside the bed.  She put her hand on Jesse’s foot.  Ran her thumb lightly over the ticklish instep.

The foot jerked, then withdrew under the covers.  Jesse stirred, lifting an untidy head.   Sleepy, rather grouchy blue eyes looked up.  “What’d you do that for?”

“Couldn’t resist.”

“Skye, seriously.  I have _jetlag._ ”

“Sorry.  Should I leave you be?”

“Nah.  C’m here.”  Jesse settled down against the pillows, his expression clearing.  He raised the covers invitingly.

Skyler let herself back into the bed, snuggling down into the curve of Jesse’s body, nestling her bottom against him.  Jesse drew the covers over them both, and draped an arm around her, curling a hand between her breasts.  He put his face into her hair.

They were both quiet for awhile.  Skyler closed her eyes. 

 “Where’s Walt?”  Jesse murmured eventually.

“Out for his run.”

“Oh.  What’s he up to, now?”

“Five miles, I think.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

Jesse yawned against her neck.  “What’re you doing today?”

“Going over the Hank and Marie’s with Holly.  Want to come?”

Jesse snorted.  “Oh yeah.  I’ve really been looking forward to spending the day with Hank.”

“Don’t be silly.  He likes you.”

“Sure.  He thinks I’m great.”

Skyler smiled.  “Well, you are.”

“Uh huh.”

Skyler turned around to face Jesse, her head on the same pillow.  Looked into the blue eyes, so close to her.   They looped arms around each other’s waists, an automatic gesture for them by now.  Skyler kept smiling but her voice was tentative.  “You okay with spending the day here?”

Jesse smiled back at her.  “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

Skyler’s smile faded.  She looked at him silently.

Jesse met her gaze.  “Don’t worry about me, Skye,” he said, finally.  “I’ll be fine.  I’ve been wanting to spend some time with Walt, you know.  I haven't seen him in weeks. Even longer than when I last saw you.  We've both been so busy.”

Skyler sighed.  “Well, alright.”  Looked away for a moment.  Then back.  “Say… how’s that girl you were mentioning?”

Jesse blinked.  “Who…you mean, Hanne?”

Skyler raised her eyebrows.  “Why, was there someone else?”

Jesse shook his head at her, smiled.  “No…and she’s fine.”

“You should bring her here.”  Skyler said, making an effort to be generous.

Jesse’s eyes became a bit distant.  “I don’t think we’re there, yet.”

Skyler looked at him.  “Does she know about us?”

“No.  Other than you’re my business partners.  And that I’m Holly’s godfather.”

“When do you think you’ll tell her?” 

Jesse sighed, looked away.  “Oh I don’t know.  Maybe never.  We’ll see how it goes.”  Met Skyler’s eyes again, a warmer look.  “The three of you are pretty scary.  Not too many people could deal with that.”

Skyler snorted.  “ _I’m_ not scary.  Or Holly.”

Jesse laughed.  “ _Holly_ is the scariest of all of you.”

Skyler laughed back.  “You might be right there.”

Jesse smiled, kissed her.  “Hanne’s great.  But she’s not where I live.  I live here.  With you.”

“What does she look like again?”  Skyler asked curiously.

“Blonde hair, blue eyes.  Rockin’ bod.  Gorgeous.  Like you.”

“Like you, you mean.”

Jesse grinned.  “Yeah, my twin.”

“How old is she?”

“Thirty three.”

“Wow, older woman.”  Skyler smiled.

“They’re the best.”

Skyler paused, then said carefully.  “Jesse, if someone ever becomes really important to you, you know we’ll be okay with it.”

“ _You_ will be.  I don’t know about Walt.”

“He will be too,” Skyler said seriously.  “I’ll see to it.”

Jesse shrugged, letting it go.  “Alright.  I don’t see it being an issue anytime soon, anyway.”   He kissed Skyler again.  “When’s Walt going to be back?”

“In a little while.  He just left.”

“Cool.  What about Holly?”

“We’ve probably got a few minutes before she’s up.”

“Awesome.  What’re we waiting for, then?”

“I’m not waiting.  I’m right here.”

“You sure are.”  Jesse nuzzled his head into her breasts.  Skyler reached for him, laughing.

***

The four of them had finished breakfast, sitting around the stone counter in the kitchen.  Walt was washing up.  Skyler and Holly were organizing to go.  Jesse was still seated, elbows on the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in his hands. 

Holly had put on a pair of purple plastic sunglasses, shaped like fish.  She planted herself in front of Jesse.  “Look at my new glasses!”

“Wow, Holly they’re the bomb.  _Stylin._ ”

“I know.  Mommy got them for me.”

“Under duress.”  Skyler added.  “She’s been wanting to show them off to Marie.”

“Somehow I think she’ll go for those.”  Jesse said.

Skyler laughed.  Picked up her bag.  “Let’s go kiddo.”

Holly held up her arms to Jesse.  “Gimme hug!”

Jesse leaned over, embraced the little girl, kissing the top of her head.  “Hugs for my Holly," he said.  "Have a good day.   Try not to be too much of a pain in the ass.”

Holly giggled.  “I’m _never_ a pain in the ass!”

Jesse shook his head solemnly.  “No never.  I must have been thinking of somebody else.”

Holly wrinkled her nose at him.  “Fun- _ny_.”

Jesse winked at her.  Holly went over to her father, who was drying plates.  Put her arms around his legs.  “Bye Daddy.” 

Walt bent and kissed the top of her head.  “Bye baby.  Mind your mother.”

“I will.”

Skyler came up behind her daughter, leaning over her and kissing Walt lightly on the mouth.  “Bye honey.  Enjoy your day.”

“Thanks sweetheart, you too.  Say hi to Hank and Marie for me.  Let them know we’d like to have them out.”

“I will.”  Skyler went over to Jesse, kissed him also.  “Have a good day, Jesse.”  Looked at him briefly.

Jesse smiled at her, but said nothing.  Skyler kissed him again, then turned away.  Looked at her daughter.  “C’mon kiddo, let’s go.”

Holly ran up to her, taking her hand. 

They left. 

Jesse listened to Skyler’s car pulling away.  He sat quietly on the kitchen stool, his hands clasped around the warm coffee mug.

Walt had finished drying the plates, put them in the cupboard.  Glanced at Jesse.  “When do you want to get started?”

Jesse wasn’t looking at him.  “Whenever you want.”

Walt put his hands in his back pockets.  He looked at his partner’s bent head.  Said, “I would suggest now.  We’ve got some catching up to do.”

Jesse looked up.   Walt took in the wary blue gaze.  Jesse’s shy wild animal look.  He walked slowly over to younger man and grasped him by the hair.  Tilted Jesse’s face towards his.  Kissed him, putting his tongue in Jesse’s mouth. 

Jesse opened his mouth cooperatively.  He placed his hands on Walt’s waist.  “Put your arms behind your back.”  Walt whispered against Jesse’s mouth.  “Clasp your wrists.”

Jesse drew in a shaky breath.  Then he did as he was asked, putting his arms behind him.  Clasped both wrists tightly.  He raised his mouth towards Walt again, staring at him.  “Very good,” Walt said softly.  Kissed Jesse again.  Then he moved his mouth to Jesse’s throat, feeding on it.  Put a hand under Jesse’s shirt, brushed a thumb over a flat nipple.  Then took that nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling hard on it.  Jesse closed his eyes.  Walt observed Jesse’s intent, slightly pained expression, the long lashes curving against his cheeks, his brows furrowed.  He released Jesse’s nipple, caressed it again with his thumb.  Jesse’s lips were parted.  He was breathing softly through his mouth.

Walt removed his hand from under Jesse’s shirt and placed it on his cock, palming him through his jeans.  Jesse was hard.  Walt stroked him gently.  Patted him.  “Let’s go.”

“Where do you want me?”  Jesse’s voice was low.

“The dungeon.   You walk ahead of me.  Keep your wrists clasped.”  Walt stood back, giving Jesse room to lever himself off the stool, which he did, somewhat awkwardly, his arms bent behind him.  Then gestured to his partner to walk ahead of him, down the hall towards the bedroom.  Put a hand on Jesse’s bottom, cupping it.  “I’ve missed _this.”_ Walt said.  Jesse didn’t reply.

They entered the bedroom, Walt locking the bedroom door behind him.  Walked past the unmade bed, around the curve of the inner wall, towards the door with the steel combination lock.  Jesse halted in front of it, waiting.  “Close your eyes.”  Walt said.  Jesse complied.  Walt punched in the code.  The lock clicked open and Walt pushed open the heavy door, opening on to the black space inside.  He flicked the switch on the outside wall beside the door, turning on the small, bright overhead lights.  “Go on in,” he said to Jesse.

Jesse walked past him to the centre of the room.  Stopped and turned around.  Walt entered, shutting the door behind him. It locked with a click.  He halted, looking at Jesse as he stood silently, arms still clasped behind his back.  Stared at him for awhile.

Jesse was getting restless.  Shifted his feet.  “Mr. White—“

Walt raised a hand.  “Did I say you could speak?”

Jesse closed his mouth.  His eyes were intent on Walt.  They were starting to glisten. 

Walt tilted his head, still looking at his partner.  Then said, “Take off your shirt and socks.  Put them away neatly.  Leave your pants on.”

Jesse did as he was asked.  Put his clothes away in the closet.  Then stood to face Walt again, bare to the waist, his slender, muscular torso and arms gleaming under the bright lights.

Walt walked up to him, ran his hands over Jesse’s front and sides, enjoying the feel of his smooth skin.  Jesse closed his eyes.  “Go over to the rings on the wall,” Walt said softly.  “Hang on to them.”

Jesse opened his eyes, looked at Walt briefly.  Then walked over to a set of steel rings that were fixed to the wall.  Stretched his arms above his head to grasp them.  Walt opened a drawer, took out a set of broad, black leather manacles and then fastened Jesse’s wrists to the steel rings, binding them tightly.  Jesse clutched the rings tensely with his hands, breathing shallowly. 

Finished with the manacles, Walt stepped back to survey his work.  Regarded the younger man’s bare back and arms, displayed against the wooden panelled wall.  Stepped forward again and put his hand between Jesse’s legs, feeling for his cock.  It was rigidly hard.  Walt grasped it firmly through Jesse’s jeans.  Heard Jesse’s breath as it hissed through his clenched teeth.  He kissed the side of Jesse’s neck.  Jesse turned his face towards Walt, pressing his cheek against Walt's head.

“How many days has it been?”  Walt asked.

“What?”  Jesse said.

“Try that again.”  Walt’s lips were against Jesse's skin.

Jesse swallowed.  “I’m sorry Mr. White, I don’t understand.”

“How many days has it been, since we’ve been together?  I asked you to keep track, remember?”

“Fifty six.”  Jesse said.

“Fifty six days,” Walt repeated.  “That’s a long time, Jesse.  That’s a long time to expect me to do without your sweet ass.   I think you need to be punished for the deprivation you put me through.  What do you think?”

“Yes.”  Jesse said.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I think I should be punished,” Jesse said softly.

“Are you asking me?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“Please punish me, Mr. White.”

“Alright.”  Walt hooked his thumbs in his front pockets.  “Fifty six days.  What kind of punishment do you think that calls for, Jesse?”

“I don’t know,” Jesse whispered.

Walt smiled.  “I think you do,” he said softly.  “Fifty six lashes with my belt.  That’s what you require, Jesse.”

Jesse’s face was flushed, his brows twitched together.  His voice was strained.  “No, Mr. White, please.  That’s too much.  I’m not going to be able to move, after.  That’s too much.  Please.”

“Are you arguing with me?”

“No.  No I’m not.  I’m just asking.  Please.  That’s too much.”

“It’s your own fault,” Walt said regretfully.  “You should have scheduled a maintenance visit.  Why didn’t you?”

Jesse’s voice was raw.  “I didn’t think.  I should have.  I’m sorry.”

“Yes.  You will be sorry.”

Jesse’s voice rose.  “No, Mr. White, please!  I’m begging you.  That’s too much at once.  I’m going to be useless, after.  You don’t want _that_ do you?”

“What do you suggest then?”

“Split it up.  Do some now and some later.”

Walt considered.  Then nodded.  “I could do that.  Twenty eight now and twenty eight before you go back.  Give you something to think about.  Sound fair?”

“Yes.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  Of course, we’ll have to add in something else to make up for me being so easy on you today.  Something I’ve been wanting to try.”

“What is it Mr. White?”

“You’ll see.  It’s going to involve an overnight trip though.  We’ll schedule it in for later.  Give you some time to recover.”

Jesse said nothing.

Walt stroked a hand down Jesse's back.  “I think we should get started.  Are you ready?”

Jesse leaned his forehead against the wall.  “Yes,” he whispered.

Walt patted his bottom.  “Very good.”  he said.  He reached around Jesse’s waist, undid the button of his jeans.  Unzipped his fly and pulled down Jesse’s jeans and shorts.   “Step out.”  He said.  Jesse raised one foot and then the other, allowing Walt to pull the rest of his clothing off.  Walt folded the garments and put them neatly away in the closet.  Turned back to this partner.  Took in the gleaming white bottom.

“It’s almost a shame to mark it,” Walt said conversationally.  “It’s pretty, like this.”

“You told me you liked seeing some colour.”

“I do.”  Walt replied.  He was undoing his belt.  “That I do.”  He hefted the belt in his hand, re-familiarizing himself with its weight.  Then doubling it, he swung the belt with moderate strength against Jesse’s bottom.  Jesse’s hands tightened convulsively on the steel rings.

Walt paused, taking in the effect.  A red welt had surfaced across the white skin.  Walt nodded, then swung again.  A second crack, harder this time.  Jesse’s ribs were heaving.  He pressed his cheek against the wall.

“Count for me, Jesse.”  Walt said.  “We don’t want to lose track.”

“Two.”  Jesse said.

“Good.”  Walt swung the belt again.

 _“Three.”_   Jesse’s voice was tight with strain.

Walt swung again.  The flesh of Jesse’s bottom was turning pink.  “Four.”  Jesse gasped.

Walt aimed a blow at the top of Jesse’s thighs, hitting them with a sharp crack.  “Five.”  Jesse whispered.

Again on his bottom.  “Six.”

And again.

“Seven,” Jesse choked out.  He was starting to wince with each blow.

The whipping continued. 

“…Fifteen,”  Jesse said.  He was twisting, turning his body with the strikes of the belt, leaning against the wall and then pulling away, straining against the manacles.  His bottom was red, welted.

Walt’s belt caught the tops of his thighs again.  “Sixteen,” Jesse said through his teeth.  His eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

Walt paused, walked up to Jesse where he was bound against the wall.  Put a hand gently on his bottom.  The flesh was hot.

“Twelve more to go,” Mr. White said.  “How are we doing?”

“Hurts.”  Jesse whispered.

“Yes,” Mr. White replied.  He was standing very close to the younger man.  Jesse felt Mr. White’s clothes brushing his bare skin.  “It’s supposed to.”  He stroked Jesse’s bottom lightly.  “I’m going to give you an option here, Jesse.  We can keep going now, or take a break.   Which do you prefer?”

“When would you do the rest?”  Jesse asked.

“After I fuck you,” said Mr. White softly.  His lips were close to Jesse’s ear.  “We finish it later today, or, if I don’t feel like it afterwards, I’ll figure out a time tomorrow.  Send the girls out for an hour or two.”

Jesse took a breath.  “Finish it now,” he said.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Well, okay then.”  Mr. White stepped back.  The belt hit Jesse’s bottom again, sharply.

_“Seventeen.”_

And again.

_“Eighteen.”_

And again.  _“Nineteen.”_ Jesse’s voice was choked. 

And again, the belt slapping crisply across the earlier welts. 

There was a pause. 

Jesse was breathing hard, his forehead pressed against the wall.

“Jesse?”  Mr. White’s voice.  “I’m waiting.”

“Twenty,” Jesse bit out.

The belt cracked again, agonizingly.

Tears were running from Jesse’s eyes and he was having trouble catching his breath.  His bottom was a blaze of pain, the flesh lighting up with each impact of the belt, then throbbing painfully.

Mr. White was waiting.  Jesse drew another breath, let it out.  Tried to get himself under control.  “Twenty-one,” he whispered.  Turned his face, wiped his wet cheek against his arm.

Mr. White was quiet.  Jesse glanced over his shoulder at him.  “We can take a break Jesse, and pick this up later,” Mr. White said.

Jesse was suddenly furious with him.  “Get it over with, you fucking bastard!” he spat.  “You’re going to do it, you _do it_ , already!”

Mr. White was still.  Then out of the corner of his eye, Jesse saw him shrug.  “Well, since you ask me like that—“  The belt swung, very hard, striking Jesse’s bottom like a white hot brand.  Jesse gasped. 

“Count for me, Jesse,” Mr. White said calmly.  “Don’t make me ask you again.”

_“Twenty two.”_

“Very good.”   Another crack, extremely hard.

Jesse’s breath caught on a sob.  “Mr. White _, please…”_

“You’re getting what you asked for, Jesse.”

“I’m sorry I swore at you.  _I’m sorry._    _Please…not so hard_ …”

“Keep counting.”  Mr. White’s voice was inexorable.

“Twenty three.”  Jesse’s voice was shaking.

Another crack, just as vicious as the last.  “Ouch!  Please, please, Mr. White!  That’s too hard!  _Please!”_

“Count.”  Mr. White’s voice was like stone.

Jesse was crying.  He pressed his cheek against the wooden wall.  The surface was wet with his sweat and tears.

“Twenty four,” he whispered.

The belt swung again, with the full force of Mr. White’s arm behind it. 

Jesse cried out. 

Mr. White was waiting patiently.

Jesse was swallowing tears.  He bit his lip, his breaths shuddering.  “Twenty five.”  he said, eventually.

The belt descended, with pitiless force.  And then again twice more, with Jesse writhing under the lash, gasping the number after an agonized pause.

“…Twenty-eight.”  Jesse choked out, barely able to speak.  He was sobbing breathlessly, his face covered with tears and spit.  He was sagging against the wall, his weight supported by the leather manacles binding his wrists.

Jesse saw Mr. White dimly, out of the corner of his eye, opening a drawer.  He took out a pot of cream.  Then spread the cool lotion onto Jesse’s throbbing, welted flesh.  Jesse winced under the light touch of Mr. White’s fingers, crying out again.  “Ouch!  Mr. White _please,_ I’m really sore…”

“I know.  I’m sorry Jesse.  But we’re not quite done yet.  I still have to fuck you.  Then you can rest.”  Mr. White fingers went to the dark crease between Jesse’s bottom, rubbing the cream in generously.  It glided on, cold and smooth.  “Bend forward and spread your legs as wide as you can,” he said.  “It’ll be easier on you that way.”

Jesse was crying again, the tears streaming silently down his cheeks.  He shifted his legs back and spread them, bracing himself against the wall with the limited leverage allowed by his bound wrists.  Felt Mr. White slip a finger, greasy with cream, into his anus.  “You look beautiful, Jesse.”  Mr. White whispered.

Jesse heard the rustle of Mr. White's clothes, then he came into sight, bare to the waist. He’d drawn his belt back through the loops of his pants, its straps hanging loose in front, unbuckled.  He disappeared behind Jesse again. 

Jesse heard Mr. White unzip his pants.  Then strong fingers on his bottom, spreading the cheeks apart.  He felt the blunt tip of Mr. White’s cock probing him.

Mr. White's calm voice. “Okay Jesse, here we go.”  He thrust smoothly in, his cock gliding easily against Jesse’s lubricated flesh.  Jesse gasped at the intense pressure, Mr. White’s cock filling him, stretching the narrow opening.  His partner reached around him and folded his fingers over the tip of Jesse’s own cock, which had remained rigidly hard throughout this whole ordeal.  He rubbed it as he started thrusting into Jesse from behind.

Jesse’s head fell back.

Mr. White was leaning on him, the cloth of his pants scraping painfully against Jesse's welted bottom, his warm hairy chest brushing against Jesse’s back.  His partner began to fuck him hard, his breathing harsh beside Jesse’s ear. 

Jesse felt pleasure ignite sharply inside him, sparking from the deep internal gland that was being rubbed so forcefully by Mr. White’s cock.  And then his own cock, painfully hard, now being roughly handled by Mr. White’s callused, lubricated fingers.  Mr. White’s other hand found his nipple, pinched it, yanked on it strongly.  His lips were on the side of Jesse’s neck.

Jesse’s breath was shuddering again, but this time he was swallowing moans, trying to keep some small amount of control against a complete surrender to Mr. White’s assault on his defenceless body.

Mr. White’s hand closed tightly around Jesse’s cock.  Jesse gasped. 

“You’ve been playing with this, I know.”  Mr. White said softly, running his thumb over Jesse's cock.  “That girl, in Germany.  And that little China doll, I remember her.  I know you’ve been speaking to Skyler about them.  And that’s okay.  You have my permission to lend this out as long as there's an agreement between you and my wife.  But _this_ …“ his other hand went to Jesse’s sore bottom, grasping it.  Jesse moaned. “Mr. White, please—“

Mr. White’s grip tightened.  “Shut up,” he said briefly.  Thrust into Jesse again, strongly.  Jesse bit back another involuntary sound.  “This-“ Mr. White continued.  “… _this_ belongs to me.  No one else.  I took your virgin ass and it stays _mine_.  Always.  You understand me, Jesse?”

“Yes,” Jesse said.

Mr. White leaned over Jesse, his warm body covering him.  “Make sure you do,” he whispered.  “No other men.  Ever.  I find out that you’ve been with another man, what do you think I’ll do, Jesse?”

“You’ll kill me,” Jesse replied softly.  Felt Mr. White nod.

“Eventually,” Mr. White agreed.  “But first I’ll lock you up.  Keep you locked in here or another place like it, my prisoner, naked, never to see the light of day again.  Do you believe me, Jesse?”

Jesse was shuddering.  “Yes,” he whispered.

“Very good,” Mr. White said.  “Now… _come for me._ ”  He bucked into Jesse, rubbing strongly against the sensitive tissues.  Ran his fingers rapidly, slickly over Jesse’s cock.   Jesse was moaning, writhing helplessly against the leather straps binding his wrists as well as Mr. White’s hard, restraining embrace. 

“Come for me Jesse,” Mr. White repeated.  His voice had roughened.  “That’s it—“ Jesse felt Mr. White start to shake against him.  Heard Mr. White’s groan has he came heavily into Jesse’s body, heard his own voice crying out as he felt himself shattering, breaking apart under a release of violent pleasure.

Mr. White held Jesse tightly from behind, breathing on him.  Jesse felt the other man’s body slick with perspiration, his cock softening inside him.  Then Mr. White levered himself up.  Pulled out of Jesse.  Still breathing heavily, he reached up and fumbled with the straps on Jesse’s wrists, unbuckling them.  Released, Jesse sank to the floor. 

Walt was standing over his naked partner.  He slowly re-fastened his pants, re-buckled his belt.  Looked at Jesse, lying unmoving.  Crouched down beside him.

“Hey,” Walt said, softly, putting a hand on Jesse’s shoulder.  “You okay to get up?”

Jesse’s eyes were open, staring at nothing.  “Give me a moment,” he replied.

Walt rose.  “Okay,” he said.  “I’m going to take a shower.  Why don’t you come join me when you’re ready.”  He walked over to the dungeon’s door, unlocked it, and left, leaving the door open behind him.  Daylight streamed into the little room from the brightly lit bedroom beyond.

Jesse lay quietly on the wooden floor.  He gazed idly at some dust motes, glimmering in a ray of sunlight, drifting slowly down in front of him.  Shifted himself experimentally.   His ass was throbbing painfully, and he knew from experience that it would only get worse.  He heard the shower go on in the bathroom.  And then Mr. White, whistling cheerfully.

Jesse shook his head.  He got carefully to his feet and walked slowly towards the sound.  Opened the bathroom door.  His partner was standing in the large, glassed in shower, enveloped in a cloud of steam. 

Jesse closed the door behind him and made his way over to Mr. White, joining him under the stream of warm water.  Mr. White stopped whistling, looked at him.  He held a soft terrycloth washcloth in one hand and a bar of soap in the other.

Jesse stood before him wordlessly. 

Walt gazed at the young man in front of him, patiently waiting.  He felt a smile rise up through his body like the warm morning sun, breaking out over his face.  “Would you like me to wash you?” he asked Jesse quietly, bending his head towards him.

“Yeah,” Jesse replied. 

He contemplated his partner. Mr. White was smiling at him tenderly, the soft expression in striking contrast to his harsh, angular features.  He rubbed soap into the washcloth, held the cloth for a moment under the warm water, then started washing Jesse’s face.   

Jesse closed his eyes.


	18. Chapter 18

Monday afternoon.

Jesse was staring at the freezer bag of blue meth.  It lay on his kitchen counter like a bag of rock candy. 

 _Less than a teenth_ …Mr. White wouldn’t notice.   Trouble was, he probably would.  They’d weighed it already.  It’s not like Mr. White was going to forget.  On the other hand…what was he going to say, right at the meet?  He wouldn’t be saying anything in front of Tuco, that’s for sure.  He’d be after Jesse afterwards, but, well, Jesse could deal with that.  One way or another.

Jesse lit a cigarette.  Then put it out.  Wasn’t helping.  Neither was the joint he’d smoked earlier.

Just one bowl.  They’d cooked more than Tuco was expecting anyway.  And maybe Mr. White _wouldn’t_ notice.

Anyway, after what Mr. White had put him through over the weekend, Jesse _deserved_ this.  A reward for putting up with that bastard and all his sick shit.  And all that emotional crap.  Had he asked for any of that?  Nope.  It wasn’t Jesse’s fault that his former teacher had gone loco and decided to drag Jesse along.  Jesse had been doing fine before Mr. White had barged into his life and ruined everything.  He’d been doing okay.

And don’t even start about the…ohmigod, the _sex._    Jesse could barely think about it.  I mean, he _had_ been thinking about it (a lot).  But his mind cringed every time.  In spite of dwelling on it.  In spite of, or maybe _because of_ the effect that the memories (and sure, the anticipation) had on him. 

Sex had never been all that important to him before.  I mean, other than being fun.  But he could more or less take it or leave it with whoever he happened to be with.  Take or leave _them,_ you know?  But this.  It was like sex had become the _only thing_ , practically.  And that couldn’t be good.  And then, with _Mr. White._   A _guy._   Former teacher.  Twice his age.  Dying of cancer.  Married.  Genius cook but terrible criminal –he was going to get them killed, for sure.  And also, a pretty sick, twisted bastard.   I mean, it was bad enough that this was homo sex, but _rough_ homo sex, I mean really?  Seriously? 

Jesse stared at the meth.  Tapped his fingers on the kitchen counter. 

Well, he had to admit, it had been an incredible ride.  Mr. White had opened a door in him that Jesse hadn’t known existed _(untrue, you knew it was there)_ , and hadn't really been prepared to step through _(again a lie, you were ready your whole life was preparation)._ But now that it had happened, he couldn’t say he was sorry, exactly.   

So what did that say about him?

Well, he knew what his _friends_ would say.  _Faggot._    Sick little bitch.  _Mr. White’s_ bitch. 

If they ever found out, that is.

Jesse thought about this.  If his friends ever found out about Mr. White, it would be over, for him.  Completely and utterly.  He’d have to move.

Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea, anyway.  Move.  Get out of here.  Oregon… Alaska.  Jesse had a flashing vision of cold mountain lakes, silent forests of tall pines.  Snow, a clean, unsullied white.  He could start over, he wasn’t broke, he had some money.   His rainy day fund.

He had the means to walk away.  Set up somewhere else.  Like he said to Mr. White, he could just disappear.  What was keeping him here, really?  Not his parents –it might take them weeks even to notice he was gone.  Not his friends, I mean, they were kind of an _incentive_ to leave, at this point.  He was embarrassed to be around them.

He could complete this last deal with Mr. White, collect his half of the money _,_ and then leave.   Mr. White would be okay.  He had the RV, had the methylamine, had a regular _buyer_ now apparently, crazy fuckin’ Tuco.  He’d be okay until the cancer got him.  He didn’t really need Jesse.  Other than to play with.  Sure Jesse would be walking away from the additional deals, fat stacks if everything worked out as they figured it would.  But maybe it was worth it, at this point. 

To get away from Mr. White.

He wasn’t Mr. White’s bitch.  Even though that’s what Mr. White clearly thought.   And honestly, had Jesse given him any reason _not_ to think so? 

To get away from Mr. White. 

And Mr. White’s effect on him.

Mr. White thought he owned him.  And Jesse had let him think that because, well, somehow he had found the whole idea _(and the way Mr. White touched him, handled him like an object, like a possession),_ somehow that had been totally _hot_.  In the extreme.  Like cliff jumping or skydiving, except it was sex. An incredible high. A trip.

A journey.

But he couldn’t let the journey go any further.

_(Deeper)_

It was time to call it quits.  It was time for…some meth.

Jesse started opening drawers.  Where the fuck was his pipe?  It had been here.  Mr. White had been in his kitchen.  Had he taken it?  Bastard.  Jesse wouldn’t put it past him.  Funny how he hadn’t noticed before.  How long had it been since he'd smoked any?  He’d lost track.  Being around Mr. White hadn’t left room for much else.  And that wasn’t necessarily a good thing either.  Meth was looking like a pretty healthy alternative to Mr. White at this point.

Jesse started rummaging through the various drawers, rattling through piles of his aunt’s old kitchen stuff, swearing under his breath.

“Looking for something?”

Jesse straightened up, his heart in his mouth.  Mr. White stood in his kitchen, hands in the pockets of his black windbreaker, green eyes narrow.

Jesse’s eyes went uncontrollably to the bag of blue meth (which had been _stashed away,_ before, dammit), and then back to Mr. White.

Said aggressively, “How the fuck did _you_ get in here?”

“I have a key.”

“How— _why_ do you have a key!”

“I made one for myself.  After all, my lab is here.  The methylamine.”

“And so you just… _made_ one.  Without asking me.”

Mr. White shrugged.  “What’s there to ask?  We’re partners, remember?  In this fifty-fifty.  And I wanted to make sure I had access.  This is my investment too, you might recall.  So,” he continued.  “I asked you…were you looking for anything in particular?”

“Um…yeah.”  Jesse said.  “I’m looking for my matches.  I’m all out.  Sucks.”

Mr. White glanced at the recently stubbed out cigarette, barely smoked, sitting in a plate on the counter.  “Uh huh.”

Jesse saw Mr. White’s eyes move to the bag of meth.  He gestured to it, casually.  “Oh, and I was thinking about a better place to stash that.  That’s why I had it out.”

Mr. White looked at him.  Then said.  “I threw away your pipe.”

“What!”

“All of them,” Mr. White continued.  “I went through the house and tossed them all.” 

“You had no right to do that!”

“Actually, I do.  I’m safeguarding our product against you.  And I’m safeguarding you.  Against yourself.”

Jesse was outraged.  “Mr. White, fuck you, man!  I don’t need a babysitter.  And you had no right to throw out my things.”

Mr. White continued to look at him.  Then said, “You are not allowed to touch that.”  Referring to the bag of meth.  “You are not allowed help yourself to one shard.  That is for our buyer.  Only.  If I catch you smoking that, you will get the beating of your life.  That paddling I gave you the other day won’t even compare.”

Jesse flushed with fury.  But to his intense mortification, he also felt himself getting hard.  He saw Mr. White’s cold eyes on him, taking in his reaction.  Bastard.  This wasn’t _fair,_ that this happened to him, every time.  He hated Mr. White’s ability to do this to him.  He gazed back at Mr. White stonily, pretending to be unaffected his former teacher’s words.  Went on the offensive.  “Who do you think you are?” he asked angrily. 

Mr. White blinked.  “What?”

“You heard me!”

Mr. White put his hands in his back pockets.  “I’m the one who’s giving you what you should have had years ago.” Green eyes on Jesse.  “A firm hand.  Guidance.”

Again, Jesse felt a warm flush pass through his body.  He set his teeth.  Narrowed his eyes.  “Fuck that, yo.  You’re not my dad, so back off.   You couldn’t have made that meth without me.  And this is _my_ house we cooked in.  So if I want to help myself to a little bit, I have every right.  I’m not your _kid_ , Mr. White, and you’re not the boss of me, so _wake up_ to that!”

Mr. White stared at him.  Jesse could see him considering his response.  Jesse braced himself for Mr. White to physically strike him (and there was going to be a fight _for sure_ if that happened, Jesse wasn’t going to put up with anything like that today). 

But then…he saw his former teacher give in.  Mr. White dropped his eyes.  Shrugged.  Said dismissively, “You’re an addict, is what you are.  If you’re determined to use, you’ll use.  A beating wouldn’t stop you anyway.”

Jesse was not pleased with that.  “I’m not an addict!” he snapped angrily.

Mr. White snorted.

“And anyway,” Jesse continued, “who _said_ I was planning to smoke any?  You’re just jumping to conclusions.”

Mr. White rolled his eyes.  He looked like he was about to say something (sarcastic).  Jesse glared at him, waiting.  But then Mr. White stopped himself, looked down. 

There was a pause. 

“Right.” Mr. White said, eventually, without looking up.  His voice was tired. 

Jesse stared at him.  Was that it?  Mr. White’s shoulders had slumped, slightly.  Then he glanced up again, met Jesse’s gaze.   The look in his eyes matched his voice, a bit tired and sad.

“I’m not going fight you about this anymore,” Mr. White said quietly.  “I didn’t come over here for that.”   He watched Jesse for another moment.  Then smiled at him, tentatively.

Jesse was unimpressed.  Did _not_ smile back.  “Yeah…why _are_ you here, anyway?” he replied in an unwelcoming tone.  “Is something wrong?”

“Nope.”

“ _O-kay_ …You get in touch with Tuco?”

“Uh-huh,” Mr. White said absently.  “The meet is set for the day after tomorrow.  Same place, the junkyard.”

“So…what are you _doing here?_ ” Jesse asked.  “Shouldn’t you be with your precious _family_?”

Mr. White shrugged again.  “They’re used to me going off in the afternoons by now.  Why change the routine?  And I wanted to see you.”

Jesse was silent.  His anger receded, leaving him drained.  He looked away.

Mr. White stepped close to him.   Jesse glanced up, warily.   Mr. White was gazing at him, an expression in his narrow eyes that Jesse hadn't seen there before.  But it was a look that Jesse suddenly remembered, an old memory from years ago, piercing him sharply. 

_(Seven year old Jesse, running up to his parents on the playground, holding a model plane.  His parents watching him.  Gazing at him like he was everything, the only thing, within their line of sight.  “Precious!” His mother’s arms opening.)_

That was the look in Mr. White's eyes.

He reached out, fingers lightly touching Jesse’s cheek.  Ran a thumb over Jesse’s lips.

Said roughly, “You’re wrong about something Jesse.  I’m not your dad, that’s true.  And sure, I’m not your boss.  But you’re definitely my kid.  You’re my beautiful, idiotic, messed up kid.  Who I’m crazy about.”

Jesse was still.  Mr. White's words settled on his chest like an iron weight, making it difficult for him to breathe.  After a moment, he spoke, with some effort.  “Because you adore me.”

Mr. White's eyes were on him, steady.  “Yes I do,” he replied, softly. 

Jesse searched Mr. White’s face, looking for the lie.  He didn't see it. 

He blinked.  “You are _such_ a sick fuck,” he said, shakily.

Mr. White smiled at him.  “You’re right.” he replied.  His eyes were gentle.  Then he leaned forward.  Kissed Jesse on the mouth.

That kiss.  Jesse's eyes closed.  He felt the familiar, yielding warmth flow through him, weakening.  After a moment he leaned forward into Mr. White, felt the other man embrace him, arms strong against his back.  He kissed Jesse slowly, his tongue lightly touching Jesse’s lips.

Jesse put his hands tentatively on Mr. White's waist, holding himself still otherwise. He could hardly breathe.  The weight on his chest had increased in pressure, unbearably, and Jesse felt if he moved at all it would unbalance, tipping and falling through him, shattering him to pieces.

He let Mr. White kiss him for awhile. Gathered himself.  Then broke away, looking up at Mr. White’s face.  Those harsh, lean features, deeply grooved with expression lines.  The narrow, intelligent eyes, an intense green stare from under sharply angled brows, focused on Jesse. 

Jesse gazed back at Mr. White thoughtfully. 

Could he really just leave, just walk away from this man?  Right now, walking away from Mr. White felt like walking away from oxygen.

Mr. White had said something to him, before.  Mr. White had said… _I see you._  

He said he wanted Jesse to be happy.

He had said… _I’m not letting you go._

Jesse felt as though a fist clenched inside him, had opened, invisible fingers releasing what they held so tightly. 

Which disappeared, vanishing like smoke into air, before Jesse saw what it was.

He gave up.  Allowed himself to relax into Mr. White's body, clinging to him.  Put his face into the warm, scratchy hollow of Mr. White’s throat. Buried himself against Mr. White, in the steady rhythm of the other man’s breath. 

He felt his own breathing even out, the tightness in his chest easing.  Mr. White's arms were firmly around him, holding him closely. 

Then he spoke, his rumbling voice next to Jesse's ear.  “Let’s get out of here.”

“What?”  Jesse voice was faint. Mr. White's voice was pulling him back from a distance.

“Let’s get out of here.  Do something.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.  But let’s go someplace.  Do something fun.”

Jesse was perplexed.  “Fun.”  He hesitated, then spoke against Mr. White’s throat.  “Um…are you asking me out on a _date_?”

Mr. White chuckled.  Said, “Let’s call it more of a…field trip.”

Jesse raised his head.  Looked up into Mr. White’s laughing eyes.  “ _Field trip,"_  he repeated. "Jesus.  What do you have in mind?”

Mr. White grinned down at him.  “Let’s go to the natural science museum.”

 _“_ The _what?”_

“The natural science museum!  There’s an exhibit on the chemical origins of life that I’ve been meaning to check out.”

Jesse stared at him.  “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s your idea of _fun?”_

“Sure,” Mr. White said, obliviously.  “You’ll like it too.  Broaden your mind.”

Jesse shook his head.  “Dude, I think _your_ ideas of fun and _my_ ideas of fun are kind of different, yo.”

Mr. White looked down at him sardonically. “Not all of them,” he drawled.

Jesse was quiet for a moment, at a loss on how to answer _that._   Then annoyed, he made a half hearted attempt to pull out of Mr. White’s embrace.  His partner’s arms tightened around him.  Jesse struggled harder.  “I’m not interested in going to the science museum!” he snapped.

Mr. White’s arms tightened further.  He was laughing.  “How about this.  We go to the museum first, and then do something _you_ like.  What do you want to do?”

Jesse stilled, considering this.  What to do out in the world with Mr. White.  “Um…I dunno…”  Then, inspired, said, “What about bumper cars?”

“ _Bumper cars?”_ Mr. White sounded mystified.

“Yeah,” Jesse said.  “Bumper cars are great.”

“Um…no.”

Jesse accepted this, considered some more.  “Okay…how about…mini golf?  They have this awesome new arcade on San Mateo with glow-in-the-dark mini golf and like a thousand video games.”

Mr. White rolled his eyes.  “Yeah…no.”

“Fine,” said Jesse, irritated.  “Be that way.”  Mr. White’s arms had loosened and Jesse stepped away.  He eyed his partner consideringly.  Mr. White stood before him quietly, waiting.  Jesse was struck, not for the first time, by a certain grace in the way his partner held his body, a wild, predatory strength inhabiting him.  Every time he saw Mr. White it became more evident. 

He tried again.  “Okay…what about pool?  You up to playing some pool?”

Mr. White’s expression brightened.  “Sure. That sounds good.”

Jesse smiled, happy with his suggestion.  Then he glanced at Mr. White.  Smirked.  “Well, okay.  But prepare to be smoked.”

Mr. White looked back at him.  “That’s what you think will happen, huh?”

“Yup.  My game rules.”

Mr. White was smiling, his eyes warm on Jesse’s face.  “We’ll see about that…I’ve played a few games of pool in my time.”

Jesse snorted.  “Yeah?  How many decades ago was that?”

“Almost three, thanks for asking, which _translates_ into…I’ve been playing pool since before you were born.  So have some respect.”

Jesse nodded solemnly.  “Respect.  Right.”

Mr. White ignored this.  He nodded back.  “Okay.  Pool it is.  But first, the natural science museum.”

Jesse groaned.  “Oh, man.”  Glanced briefly at Mr. White, then looked again, more closely.  Seriously, did his partner look _hurt?_   “Okay…fine,” Jesse said.  “Science museum.  Just wake me up when it’s over.”

“Very funny.  Let’s go then.”  Mr. White turned to leave.

“And I’m driving,” Jesse added.

Mr. White paused, looked back.  “Um, no, _I’m_ driving.”

Jesse shook his head.  “Dude, I’m not going anywhere in that car of yours, got it?  It’s the colour of vomit.”

Mr. White raised his eyebrows.  “And _your_ ridiculous car is such a delight for _me_ to ride in.”

Jesse set his jaw.  “It’s my car or nothing.”

Mr. White sighed.  “Fine.  But can you do me a favour and not wear that beanie?  I don’t like them.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, then snatched his black wool hat off his head and threw it onto the counter.  _“Happy_ now _?_ ” he asked, sarcastically.

Mr. White was gazing at him again with that expression.  Jesse paused, arrested.  Then Mr. White walked over to him, raised his hands, and ran them carefully through Jesse’s hair, smoothing it down.  Jesse blinked at the touch of his partner’s fingers.

Mr. White smiled at him.  “Happy,” he said, softly.  His hands cupped Jesse’s face.  He kissed him gently. 

Jesse stood still under the kiss. A warm, melting feeling broke open in the pit of his stomach, spreading outwards into the rest of his body. He closed his eyes involuntarily, then raised his mouth to his partner's.  He thought of a flower turning towards the sun, seeking out its life giving rays. That’s how his body felt right now.

My god…he was acting like a chick.  Mr. White was turning him into one.  This was so bad. 

Jesse stepped back.  “Whatever…” he said gruffly.  Grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter.  “Okay…Mr. White, let’s get this over with,” he said over his shoulder, sauntering past the other man towards the front door.  Heard Mr. White’s steps, following him. 

“Commencing the field trip,” Jesse announced, opening the door to the bright day outside.  “ _Science_ me, bitch!”

Mr. White smacked the back of his head.

“Ow!   What was that for!”

“ _That_ was for being an idiot,” said Mr. White.  “Good thing I’m crazy about you, anyway.”

“Right,” said Jesse, rubbing his head as he walked towards his car.  “You’ve got the crazy part down, for sure.”

Mr. White followed behind him, laughing.


	19. Chapter 19

Jesse and Mr. White were in the last room of the Origin of Life exhibit at the New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science.  They stood in front of a long laminate display board displaying the evolution of life on earth, the last of (many, many) items in the exhibit subjected to Mr. White’s scrutiny.  

It was a quiet Monday afternoon.  The parking lot at the museum was almost empty, and they had the exhibit room to themselves.

Mr. White gazed thoughtfully at the board.  Jesse looked at him.

Mr. White said absently, “There's no certain answer to the origin of life, you know.  No universally accepted theory.”

“How many theories are there?”  Jesse asked politely, trying to simulate interest.

“Well, in terms of the scientific theories, there are three primary ones.”

“What are they?”

“Well, there's one theory that life on earth happened randomly, a matter of chance, you know.  Lightning striking the right chemicals in the earth’s original primordial soup, creating living molecules out of lifeless ones, _living_ meaning _reproducible_ you know –reproduction, variation, evolution…the whole Darwinian cycle.  There was an experiment in the 1950s that supposedly demonstrated this.  The second theory is that life was imported –that it travelled in on meteors from outer space.”

Jesse digested this.  Then said, “Wow, like aliens?”

Mr. White smiled at him.  “Well, like alien chemicals.   We’ve found meteors –found one in Australia for example, that contain all the essential amino acids –the building blocks of life, you know.  So when these meteors fell to earth, life could have been introduced that way.  Again, not deliberate.  An accidental clashing of alien and earthbound chemicals to produce a living molecular structure.”

“Okay.”  Jesse said.  “And what’s the third school of thought?”

“The third school of thought,” Mr. White continued, “believes that life came into being as a self regulating survival mechanism of the planet.  That life emerged as the earth’s means of releasing and managing its own energy flow.”

Jesse frowned.  “…I don’t understand.”

“Well, think of it like this,” Mr. White said.  He sounded happy.  “You know how lightning is earth’s way of releasing electrical energy that builds up in the atmosphere?”

“Um…no.”

“…Well…it is,” Mr. White said, the cheeriness fading slightly from his voice.  Then his tone picked up again, “So…in the same way, _life,_ which in this context means an evolving, self sustaining chemical process you understand, _happened_ in order to regulate the energy built up within the earth itself –that the energy required by the cycle of _life_ would break up and dissipate the build up of energy within the _earth._ See?”  He spread his hands, smiled encouragingly.

Jesse frowned.  Shook his head.  “Um…no.  Don’t see.  Sorry.” 

Mr. White sighed.  Jesse narrowed his eyes at him.   If Mr. White said anything sarcastic he was out of here.  As of now.  Mr. White could find his own way home.

Mr. White met Jesse’s gaze.  Started to speak, hesitated, then nodded.  “Okay.  Think of it like this.  The earth’s core is hot, right?  Molten.”

“Yeah…”  Jesse said cautiously.  “Like volcanoes.”

“Exactly!”  Mr. White agreed.  “So all that heat…that’s energy, right?  Energy, right at the earth’s core.  The molten core of the planet.”

“Okay…”

“So…” Mr. White continued.  “All that heat energy has to be released at some point.  Energy has to move…it has to dissipate…it has to go _somewhere_.  It can’t build up forever.  That’s the law of entropy.”

Jesse was concentrating, trying to understand this _(entropy?)_.  He said, hesitantly.  “You mean…like a pot boiling over?”

“Yes!”  Mr. White was jubilant.  “Exactly like that!  Like a pot boiling over.  That’s an excellent example, Jesse.   When liquid contained in a pot gets too hot, it boils over.  And what happens when a pot boils over, Jesse?”

“You got a mess on the stove.”

“Yes!” Mr. White said.  “Precisely!   So think of it this way.   Life uses up a lot of energy –all those metabolic chemical processes just _soak up_ loads of energy.  Therefore, the presence of life allows the earth’s energy to go somewhere…gives it _channels_ to flow into, if you will, the same way we channel water.  So _life_ becomes our planet’s way of channelling its own energy…so it doesn’t boil over and create a mess.”

Jesse was nodding.  “So…are you saying that life was…that it’s the earth’s way of keeping itself from exploding all over the place?”

“That’s right.”

“So…the theory is that…life happened because the planet needed it to?  That it wasn’t just random?”

Mr. White was smiling broadly.  He put a friendly arm around Jesse, squeezed.  “Yes.  You’ve got it Jesse!  That’s the theory.   The theory is that life is earth’s answer to regulating its own energy flow.  What _you’re_ _saying_ is that the earth evolved a means for the controlled dissolution of its own internal energy through the creation of _life._ ”

Jesse smiled back at his former teacher uncomfortably, glancing around to see if there was anyone else in the room.  Nobody yet.  “Yeah…that’s…I guess that’s what I was saying, alright.  You put the words right in my mouth.”  He regarded Mr. White, the elegant, shining bald head, gleaming under the overhead lights.  Bald from chemo.  “So…what do you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think life is random or on purpose?”  Jesse asked.  “Which theory do you buy into?”

Mr. White’s expression became thoughtful.  He dropped his arm.  Said, “I guess…as a scientist, I would ask the question…before we _assume_ that life was accidental, the result of a random lightning bolt or meteor falling to earth, have we _disproven_ all the other reasons why life might be said to exist?  Have we satisfied ourselves, by scientific inquiry, as to whether or not there was a _purpose_ for life’s creation?”    

Jesse grimaced as he listened to _that_ sentence (well, to be fair he _had_ asked...).  He sighed.  “Okay…what do you mean, exactly, by disproven?”

“Disproven,” Mr. White replied obligingly, “means that you have a theory, an idea about something, and that when you subject it to scientific inquiry, it doesn’t stand up.  It’s _disproven.”_

“You mean like…setting up an experiment to prove whether an idea actually works?”

Mr. White’s eyes lit up again.  “Yes, exactly Jesse!” he said, warmly.  “An experiment is the scientist’s way of establishing the truth of something, by asking the tough questions.  Is something observable?  Is something measurable?  Is something replicable?   Will it stand up to scrutiny?  A scientist never assumes they are right, Jesse.  They’re not a scientist anymore if they start doing that.  A scientist keeps asking questions until the answers are proven or disproven.  Until what you _think_ might be the answer can stand on its own two feet. ”

Jesse frowned.  “But I don’t get something about this.  You’re saying that to be a scientist, you have to ask questions.  You can’t just assume things.  Right?”

Mr. White nodded.  “That’s right.”

“But…haven’t you just made a huge assumption already?  You’re assuming there’s going to _be_ an _answer._   Eventually.  If you keep on asking.  That it’s not all just accidental.  Like what you just said about why life happened.  You’re assuming there’s an answer out there, somewhere, you just have to find it.  But how can you really know?  You’re assuming your questions have _a point_.”

Mr. White looked at him.  He had an odd expression in his eyes, like he’d just met Jesse for the first time. 

“Okay,” he said slowly.  “Let me address that.  I believe that…the universe has a pattern.  A purpose for all its parts.   But we’re talking about a pattern _so unbelievably huge_ , so _massively complex_ , Jesse, that we can’t see it.  Not all of it.  Not even a tiny part of it.  Reality is simply too large for us.  There are too many variables interacting across too vast and complex a span of space and time for us to see all the relationships.  The causality, understand?  What may look random to us, like the emergence of life on earth, for example, could be something we're simply seeing _out of context_.  That the causes and effects are too far apart, and too intertwined for us to see all of them, or even most of them."  

"Our science,"  Mr. White continued, after a brief pause, “is just a pinprick, Jesse, just the tiniest iota of light in this huge black space, illuminating only the smallest circle around it.”

Jesse raised his eyebrows.  “And _so_ …?”

Mr. White smiled slightly.  “…And so…I guess my point is that…as a scientist, I believe…I _must_ believe…that regardless of our limitations, all things within our reality can ultimately be proven.  Made sense of.   Even if that reality is so big, so unbelievably vast, that the answer will never be proven by us.” 

Jesse gazed at him silently.  Mr. White looked back. “So I guess,” he concluded, “that’s my leap of faith.  The theory I’ve 'bought into,’ using your words, Jesse.  That things _are not_ random.  That there _is_ an over-arching structure out there, even if we can only guess at it.  And that when we use the scientific method to prove a truth, even in the smallest way, that little truth points us towards the larger truth of that structure.”  

Jesse replied, hesitantly.  “So…you’re saying that…your job is to keep on looking for proof of what you’ve figured is probably there already.”

“No,” Mr. White replied after a moment.  “What I’m _saying_ is that science doesn’t automatically assume _anything_ , Jesse.  A scientist…is not someone who provides the answers.  A scientist is the one who… _asks the questions._    Asks the questions which allow reality to speak for itself.  What true scientific inquiry says, is, that _until_ things are proven or disproven, we, as scientists, we are required to…keep on asking.”

His voice had become quiet. 

Jesse regarded Mr. White.  He looked serious, the indulgent smile he’d been wearing earlier gone.

Jesse asked, “So…you’re saying that your job is to keep on asking questions…no matter what?”

“No matter what.”

“Even if you’ll never for sure know the answer like you just said. You’re telling me you're just asking…you keep on asking, _just because?”_

Mr. White stared at him.  Eventually he replied, “Are you asking me why _I’m asking,_ Jesse? Me, personally?”

“Yeah.”

“It sounds like you’re asking me what I think  _I’m_ doing here.  My purpose.”

Jesse considered this.  That sounded about right.  He really wanted to understand that, suddenly.   The reason for Mr. White.  “Yeah…I guess I am.”

Walt looked at Jesse thoughtfully.  Jesse’s eyes were on him, waiting.  Walt continued, choosing his words carefully.  “As a scientist, Jesse, I _must_ _believe_ that the act of asking questions _in itself_ is of importance.   That the scientific quest for meaning is also meaningful…in and of itself.”

He smiled tentatively, shrugged.  “So I guess, to answer your question Jesse, I would see _my_ job, my ultimate purpose, if you will, is to use my mind like it was meant to be used.  To look for the answers to what’s out there.  To keep on asking those questions in the best way I know how.”

Walt stopped speaking, his words suddenly echoing in his ears.  He looked down.  How long had it been since he’d talked like this?  Thought about concepts like this and their application to him?  _Applied them_ to himself, in fact?  Almost two decades, at least.  It was like he’d been asleep.  Sleepwalking through his life. 

And now he was awake. For the time he had left. 

He looked up again, met Jesse’s eyes.  Jesse gazed back at him, a grave blue stare.  Walt could see he was really listening.  He considered his partner, the serious face, his slender form floating inside the baggy, oversized clothes.  In the context of this place, where Walt had been so many times on class trips, Jesse suddenly seemed like his student again.  But this time he was paying attention.

Walt took a breath, his chest suddenly tight.  Jesse, standing in front of him, so young.  “Do you see?”  he asked abruptly.

Jesse smiled at him slightly.  Then said, “You said science allows us to understand the world by training us to question our means of understanding.”

Walt laughed, astonished.  “When did I say that?”

Jesse looked pleased with himself.  Shrugged casually.  “In your class.”

“Jesse!”  Walt was smiling from ear to ear.  “You _do_ remember something from my class!”

Jesse snorted.  “Don’t get happy…that’s like, the _only_ thing I remember.  I wrote it down because it sounded cool.  Real Zen, you know?  But you never put it on a test so _that_ didn’t do me any good.”

Walt was still grinning.  “Okay, but…still, I’m impressed.  Even _I_ forgot that I used to say that.  I was trying to inspire you kids to ask questions, I guess.  Spark of knowledge and all that.”

“You’re not trying anymore?”  Jesse asked curiously.

Walt shrugged, looked away.  “Not really.”

Jesse looked at him quizzically.  “You know, Mr. White, you were saying you’re a scientist.  But aren’t you a teacher?  Or is a science teacher automatically a scientist?”

Walt shook his head, the familiar bitterness returning.  “No, a science teacher isn’t automatically a scientist.  In fact, I sometimes think that the two are mutually incompatible.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, a _scientist_ asks questions, right?”  Walt replied.  “Pursues knowledge.  They’re looking for the answers.  Scientific discovery.  A _teacher_ is passing along those answers that were already discovered.”  His mouth twisted. “And a _highschool_ _science teacher_ is passing along answers to basic questions that were typically discovered a long time ago.  By someone else.”

“So does that mean you’re _not_ a scientist then?  I don’t understand.”  Jesse asked innocently.

Walt glanced at him.  Jesse hadn’t said the words to be hurtful.  He hoped.  “Yeah…I guess that’s what it means,” he said, eventually.  “Just a highschool science teacher now.”

“It doesn’t sound like you think much of your job.”  Jesse said.

“No…” Walt replied.  “I guess not.  And I guess that’s really your answer, Jesse.  I’m not a scientist anymore.  I used to be.  Now I’m just doing a job, and not a very interesting or rewarding one for me, at that.”

“So how’d you end up in it, then?”

Walt sighed.  “I made some bad choices, earlier in my career.  Fell out with some people who were important.  I was overconfident -thought too much of myself.  Couldn’t work with others.   I can be a little arrogant and abrasive with people sometimes, get impatient.   I don’t know whether you’ve noticed.”

Jesse rolled his eyes.  “Nah…didn't notice that _at all_.”

“Funny.  So, anyway, I ended up needing something, anything that would pay the bills, you know?  And Skyler was on my case.  Kid to support.   And this job seemed as good as any.  Better than some.  Easy, for the most part, could do it in my sleep, other than once in awhile, dealing with you kids.”  Walt fell quiet.

Jesse didn’t respond.  The large room was empty, air conditioner quietly humming.  No one had entered since they’d arrived.  Walt looked down.  All those fancy words about the scientific quest for meaning.  And who was he to speak them, really?  What had he done, with his life, that he had the right? 

Then Jesse moved a little closer to him.  Said softly, “But you’re still a scientist, Mr. White.”

Walt glanced at him.  “How’s that?” he asked, briefly.

“You think like one,” Jesse said.  “Like the way you were explaining things, just now.   And you solve problems like one.  Remember the methylamine?  The thermite?  And you came up with our formula.  For our wicked product.  The blue meth.  That’s a totally new thing, right?  Isn’t that what being a scientist is?”

Walt stared at him, surprised.  Then laughed.  “I guess you’re right Jesse.  After almost fifteen years as a bored-to-tears highschool teacher I’m going back to my roots.  Meth cooking has turned me back into a scientist, after all.”  He was smiling again, ruefully.

“You know, Mr. White, I don’t remember you as being so bored.”  Jesse said.  “You were pretty intense.  Pretty into it.  The science, I mean.  Explaining it.  You showed us some pretty cool experiments.  And you were kind of demanding on us, not casual, you know?  Kind of scary, actually.  You took it seriously.  I thought you liked being a teacher.  It didn’t seem to _me_ like you were wasting your time.”

Jesse was looking up at him.  Walt gazed back at his sincere, delicate face with its shock of untidy blonde hair.  He felt a sudden, overwhelming affection for this funny being in his ridiculous clothes, this beautiful waif with the throaty voice and the wide, long lashed blue eyes. His kid.

He grabbed Jesse around the shoulders.  Playfully rubbed the blonde head.

Jesse jumped back, alarmed.  “What the fuck!”  he exclaimed.  “Cut that out, Mr. White!  God!”  His eyes darted around the room.  Came back to Walt, glaring.  _“What the hell’s the matter with you?”_ he hissed.

Walt was laughing.  Jesse was spitting at him like a wet cat, his hair standing on end.  Walt glanced quickly around the room, then grabbed Jesse by the shoulders, steering him towards a narrow corridor marked with a fire exit sign.  

Jesse wasn’t going easily.  He dug his heels in.  “What are you _doing?_   Mr. White, stop this!”

Walt turned Jesse firmly towards the corridor.  Put a hand on his bottom and squeezed.  “Move along.  Or I start feeling you up right here.”

“Jesus!”  Jesse practically leapt into the dim space. Walt followed him closely.  Jesse turned around, furious.  “ _No_ , Mr. White!  Stay away from me!  What are you thinking?  Anybody could see us!”

Walt was grinning.  He grabbed Jesse’s shoulders and pushed him up against the wall.  Then kissed him soundly.

Jesse was twisting, protesting.  “Mr. White—“ he was saying through clenched teeth, turning his head, gasping around the kisses.  “This isn’t _cool,_ man—“

Walt felt his breath coming faster.  Having this grumbling, silky haired, blue eyed young person struggling under his hands had affected him.  He grabbed Jesse’s jaw, digging his fingers in.  “Stay still,” he muttered roughly.  “Nobody’s going to notice us here if you just keep quiet.  And there’s nobody here anyway.”  Kissed him again, holding Jesse’s face firmly. 

After a moment, Jesse subsided.  “That’s it,” Walt whispered. 

He leaned into Jesse, kissing him intently, pressing himself into that lithe young body.   Felt Jesse’s cock, hard against his own.  Put his hand over it, a brief caress.  “Hello there.”   Jesse was leaning weakly back against the wall.  After a moment, he raised his mouth against Walt’s, his lips softening, parting.   His hands found Walt’s hips.  He put his tongue into Walt’s mouth. 

Without breaking their kiss, Walt shoved his own hands under Jesse’s shirt, spreading them out against the warm skin.  Ran his hands up Jesse’s satiny sides to his chest, finding both nipples.  Grasped them firmly between thumb and forefinger, twisting them slightly, then pulling.  Jesse made a strangled sound into Walt’s mouth.  Then he was arching his back, pressing his body tightly up against Walt, and shoving the hard bulge of his cock into his partner’s groin. 

Walt rubbed his own cock against Jesse’s, back and forth, relishing the contact.  He continued to pull hard on Jesse’s nipples.  Twisted them again.  Jesse broke away from Walt’s mouth, gasped.  “Oh, god, Mr. White.  We can’t do this.  Not here…please.”

Walt smiled.  “Why not?” he whispered.  Then moved his mouth to Jesse’s neck, nibbling the soft spot under one ear.   Jesse’s chest was heaving.  “No!” he hissed.  “Mr. White, seriously!” 

Walt cupped Jesse’s cock through his jeans.  Stroked him.  Jesse was rigid.  Walt felt him shuddering.  He whispered into Jesse’s ear.  “I could turn you around right now, pull your pants down and take you right now, right against this wall.  You wouldn’t tell me no.”

 Jesse shook his head.  Walt ran his fingers up and down the length of Jesse’s cock, his thumb finding the tip.  Pressed against it.  “You love this.” he muttered against Jesse’s throat.  Opened his lips against the warm skin, sucking lightly.  “No.” Jesse gasped.  “Stop it!”

“You love it,” Walt said softly.  “You know it.”

“No,” Jesse moaned.  “I don’t.”

“Liar,” Walt replied.  “I’m punishing you for that.”  Tightened his hand on Jesse’s cock.

Jesse made a sound of protest but his hands sought Walt’s sides, clinging.  His head had fallen back.  His voice was faint.  “Please Mr. White, don’t do this to me in the middle of this place.  Be fair.”

Walt released his grip on Jesse's cock then stroked him again.  Brushed a thumb slowly back and forth over Jesse's nipple.  Jesse moaned, leaned into his hands.  Walt kissed Jesse’s neck, scratching the bristle of his moustache against the warm skin. Jesse was breathing roughly.  Whispered, “Mr. White, please…no more…”

“Tell me you love it,” Walt repeated. 

Jesse’s hands had curled against Walt’s sides.  “I love it.” he whispered, softly.  

Walt pressed his cock hard into Jesse’s groin.  Felt the rigid bulge there, straining.  “Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he whispered.

“I do.”  Jesse whispered back.

“Say the words.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

Walt bucked hard against him.  Jesse moaned.  “And you’ll let me fuck you anytime I want to,” Walt said to him.  “Any place.”

Jesse stood frozen, struggling for control.  Gasped softly, “I will.” 

“Yes.”  Walt was kissing him again, feeding on Jesse’s mouth.  Jesse kissed him back, helplessly.   “You’ll let me because you belong to me, don’t you?” Walt whispered to Jesse.   “Because you’re mine.”   He wrapped his arms around his partner.  Gathered Jesse tightly into his body, rubbing his cock against him.

“Yes,” Jesse whispered back.   

Jesse had wrapped his arms around Walt’s neck in return.   His chest was heaving, unevenly.  He buried his face against Walt’s throat.

Walt continued to hold the slim body against him, not tormenting Jesse anymore, just holding him.  He felt the kid’s breaths slowing, felt his own breathing even out, the painful hardness in his cock subsiding.  Jesse was leaning on him, his arms looped around Walt’s neck, his face resting in the curve between Walt’s neck and shoulder.   Walt eventually turned his face, kissed the side of Jesse’s head.  “You’re my beautiful kid,” he murmured into Jesse’s hair.  Jesse’s arms tightened. 

Walt grasped Jesse’s shoulders.  Jesse raised his head.  He gazed at Walt with large, solemn blue eyes.  Walt looked back at him quietly.  Then he smiled at his young partner. 

“I’m pleased you remembered what I said in class,” he said.  “After all this time.”

Jesse looked momentarily confused.  Then his gaze sharpened.  He regarded Walt steadily.  Said, “You’re a real piece of work, Mr. White.”

Walt grinned.  Leaned forward and kissed the tip of Jesse’s nose.  Jesse stepped back indignantly, glaring at him.   Walt’s hands tightened on Jesse’s shoulders.  Shook him gently.  “Don’t be like that,” Walt said, still smiling.  “I adore you, remember?”

Jesse looked away from him, shaking his head slightly.  But he had stopped frowning.  Walt ran his fingers lightly down the side of Jesse’s neck.  Saw the kid’s eyes briefly close.  Said, “Let’s move on, shall we?  Have you had enough science for one day?”

Jesse rolled his eyes.  “ _Oh_ yeah.”

“Ready to play some pool?”

Jesse’s eyes moved back to Walt’s.  He suddenly looked amused.  “You really want to?”

“Sure.”

Jesse laughed slightly.  “Well, okay.”  He shook his head again.

Walt stepped back from him.  “Don’t worry.  I won’t beat you too badly.”

Jesse snorted.  “Trust me.  I’m not worried.”

“Fine.  Well…shall we go then?”  Walt extended an arm for Jesse to precede him.  Jesse moved past, slanting a glance at Walt over his shoulder.  Walt slapped him smartly on the ass.

Jesse jumped, glared back at him.  “Mr. _White…_ ” he hissed.

Walt looked innocent.  “What?” he said.

“Keep your hands to yourself!” Jesse snapped sharply, thrusting his face close to Walt's.

Walt stepped back, surprised.  He raised both hands in an involuntary gesture of surrender.  There was a moment of silence, with Walt staring at Jesse, discomfited, and Jesse taking in the somewhat stunned look on his partner’s face. 

Then Jesse began to laugh.  This situation was too ridiculous.  After a moment, Mr. White joined him.

He inclined his head, smiling.  “I apologize Jesse,” he said.  “I'll be a model of respect from here on out.”

“You’d better be.”  Jesse said.  He held his partner’s eyes for a moment.  Then slowly sauntered over and kissed Mr. White on the mouth.  Slipped him a bit of tongue.  Laid a hand lightly on his cock, running teasing fingers along its length.  Raised his head, looking into Mr. White’s eyes.  Mr. White wasn't smiling anymore. 

“Don’t forget I can give it out too,” Jesse said softly.  He leaned forward and breathed gently across Mr. White’s lips.  Then turned away, walking quickly through the empty exhibit room towards the open door.  Someone had just entered -thank _God_ they hadn’t come in two minutes earlier. 

Jesse looked briefly back in Mr. White's direction.  His partner was stalking along behind him, hands in his jacket pockets, a grouchy look on his craggy face. 

Jesse walked on, smiling inwardly.

 


	20. Chapter 20

The pool hall was cavernous, sparsely populated, green tables laid out in neat rows under cold fluorescent ceiling lights, which did little to illuminate the rest of the shadowy space.  A long bar inhabited one side of the hall, with a number of men hunched before it on stools, elbows on the bar’s dark wood surface, eyes on the big screen TV.   The bartender, a large, middle aged, bearded man, was speaking quietly with one of the customers at the far end of the bar, occasionally leaving him to take care of another customer, and then returning.  His eyes flicked briefly over Jesse and Walt as he served them beers, nodded. 

Walt nodded back.  “Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

Jesse was leaning back against the bar, surveying the rest of the room.  There were a couple of games in progress, but most of the tables were empty.

“Have you been here before?”  Walt asked.

“Nope.”  Jesse said.  “My friends and I go to this one on Central.  Sick joint.  We’d never come here.”

“What, too tame for you?”

“Too _old_ man, do you see anyone here under forty?”

“You.”

Jesse snorted.  “My point.”

“So how often would you go?”  Walt asked curiously.

“Pretty often.”

“Did you work out of there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Deal.”

“Nah.  Sometimes I’d run into customers there though, make arrangements to meet with them later.”

“Are most of your customers young?”

“Nope,” Jesse replied.  “All ages man.  Dudes your age too, and older.  And broads.”

“Really.”  Walt shook his head.

“Yup.”

“And what do these people do for a living?”

Jesse glanced at him.  “How would I know?”

“You must have some idea,” Walt said.  “From the way they look.  Dress.  Cars they drive.  That kind of thing.  What do your customers look like?”

Jesse raised his eyebrows.  “Most of them look pretty ordinary Mr. White, if that’s what you’re asking.  Why, what did you think they’d look like?”

Walt shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Like hookers.  Junkies.”

“Well, some of them do.”  Jesse turned away, took a swallow of his beer.

“Because they are.”

“Yeah.”

“But then a lot of normal types as well?”  Walt asked.

Jesse gazed at the pool game taking place in front of them.  One guy had just scratched and his opponent was setting up the cue ball, positioning it carefully on the table.  The first guy looked pissed.   “Define normal,” Jesse replied absently.

“You know, normal,” Walt repeated.  “Everyday.   Like you’d see at the bank.  In the mall.”

“Sure,” Jesse answered, after a moment.  “Suits.  College kids.  Housewives.  Guys looking to party.  Chicks.”

“So, everyone,” Walt said.

“Yeah, everyone,” Jesse replied.  “Why are you so surprised man?  It’s everyone.  Everyone’s a customer.  Everyone wants a high.”

“Not _everyone._ ”  Walt said.

Jesse rolled his eyes, glanced at Walt briefly.  “As I said, you’d be surprised.”

“I guess I am, a bit,” Walt agreed.

“I don’t see why,” Jesse replied.  “I mean, isn’t that why you’re doing this?  To make money?  How’d you expect to make money if nobody’s buying?”

Walt shrugged again.  “I guess I didn’t really think about the customers.  Who they were.  Thought it was more of a specialized market, you know.”

“Oh, you mean the hookers and the junkies,” Jesse said dryly.

“Yeah.”

“Well, there are those, no lie.”

“But plenty of other types too.”  Walt said.

“Yeah.”

“So do the other customers, the regular types, do they end up being hookers and junkies?”  Walt asked.

Jesse regarded his partner.  Mr. White was looking at him seriously.  What was he so curious about, exactly?  Jesse said carefully. “Because they’re buying the product you mean?”

“Yes.”

Jesse swallowed more beer, eyes back on the game in front of him.  The first guy was setting up for a difficult shot.   Based on what Jesse had seen of his skills so far, that was inadvisable. 

Mr. White looked at him, waiting.

“I dunno,” Jesse answered, finally.  “Maybe some of them, sure.  But the way I look at it, if someone’s going that way, they’ll go that way.  It might be meth.  Or something else.  But they’ll go that way anyway.  That’s their destination.  The drug’s just the road.”

“But it helps get them there.”  Mr. White persisted.

Jesse was getting irritated.  “Sure, man, it’s the road.  But my point is they’re going in that direction anyway.  One way or another.  There’s lots of roads to the same thing.”

Mr. White considered this.  Then said, “So who are _we_ then, in your analogy?”

Jesse grimaced.  Conversation with Mr. White could be challenging, vocabulary-wise.  The man probably did it on purpose.  To be irritating.  “…Your _what?_ ” he asked shortly.

“Analogy.  Example.  Metaphor,” Mr. White replied in his front-of-the-classroom voice.  “Who are we?   As dealers.  Suppliers.  Are we the builders of the road?  The maintenance crew?  Who are we, in your scheme of things?”

Jesse was watching the game again.  Sure enough, the first guy missed his shot, shook his head morosely.  His opponent chalked up, lining up potential shots with his eyes.  Jesse spotted a sweet one.  Would the guy take it?

Mr. White was waiting.

Jesse looked at him, sighed.  “I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it.”

“Well think about it now.”  Mr. White said.

“Why?”  Jesse asked.

“I’m interested.”  Mr. White took a swallow of his beer.

Jesse sighed again, then made an effort.  “Okay, um…well, I guess we’d be part of the…landscape.”

“The landscape.”  Mr. White repeated, thoughtfully.

“Sure,” Jesse continued.  “Like part of the surroundings, you know, like the environment?  If someone’s going that way, they’re going to meet the dealers, the partyers.  You know, the life.”

“So we’re just part of the…travel experience, then, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”  Jesse thought about this, then laughed.  “Call us the gas stations of the drug road.  Full service, extra premium blue meth.”

Mr. White didn’t laugh.  “So how do you feel about that?” he asked.  Jesse frowned.  “Um…I don’t know.  Am I supposed to feel anything?”

Mr. White was looking at him carefully.  “You don’t feel a sense of…moral responsibility?” he asked.  “For supplying the people travelling down your road?”

Jesse’s eyes were back on the game.  The man had taken the shot.  Nailed it.  “ _Yes…_ ” Jesse said under his breath.  He glanced at Mr. White.  His former teacher was waiting.  Jesse felt irritation rising again.

“Why?” he asked, in a challenging tone.  “It’s not _my_ road, Mr. White.  I didn’t create it.  And I didn’t make anyone travel on it.  That’s like saying the gas station created the highway, if we’re going to go with your… _analogy.”_

“I see.”

“Honestly…” Jesse said, warming to his subject, “If anything, I would say I’m doing a _good_ deed by supplying a decent product.  If someone’s going to smoke up, they might as well have something good.  And isn’t that what you said to me?  We’re going to make a ‘pure and stable product which performs as advertised’ is what you said.  So you must get what I’m talking about.”  He looked at Mr. White.

Mr. White looked down.  “I guess…so you’re saying that the road and the…features of the road, the dealers and such, they would be there anyway.”

“For sure.”  Jesse said, in a milder tone.

“So, your… _our…_ only contribution to this scenario is actually a beneficial one,” Mr. White continued.   “That we're providing a decent service stop, if you will, as opposed to a dive.”

“Yup.  That’s it.”  Jesse’s eyes were back on the game.

“Well…I guess that‘s one way of looking at it.”  Mr. White said.

The second guy was running out the game, making one ball after another.  “How else would you look at it?”  Jesse asked absently.

“I guess I…I’m thinking of that line from that old Kevin Costner movie.  You know, ` _If you build it, they will come.’_   Don’t you think the…drug stations on your road are more than just…way stations?  They’re destinations for themselves too.  People go there on purpose.”  Mr. White said.

Jesse rolled his eyes.  When Mr. White got something in his head, he could beat it to death.  Jesse took a breath, then answered politely, “Um…I don’t know what movie you’re talking about.   But, okay.  I see your point.  People come to us to get high.”

Walt looked at Jesse.  He was slouched against the bar, leaning back on his elbows.  Staring somewhat fixedly at the amateurish game in front of them, his eyes on the seedy, weedy character with the lanky long hair, showing off to his lumpish companion. His whole posture said he was ready for this conversation to be over. 

Walt continued.  “Right.  So we actually contribute more to your drug road then, than just being part of the landscape.  We’re also a reason it exists.”  Jesse shifted restlessly.  Walt looked at him.  “We’re more than just the gas station attendants.  We’re like the _(ferrymen)…_ real estate developers.”

Jesse straightened up, turned towards Walt, glaring.  “Okay, so stop calling it _my road,”_ he snapped _._   “I’m not responsible for every meth head in the southwest.”

Walt stepped back.  “Sorry Jesse, I didn’t mean—“

Jesse didn’t let him finish.  “ -And _so what_ if we’re a destination?  As I said, if somebody’s going to get high they’ll get high.  It’ll be us, or someone else supplying them.  And if somebody can’t handle it and turns into a hooker or some hard core addict, how’s that my fault?  It’s their life.”

Walt raised his hands.  “—I didn’t mean—“

Jesse wasn’t finished.  “—And why are you being so _heavy duty_ about this, anyway?”  he asked,  “I mean _you’re_ the one that wanted to cook meth.   If you’re going to get weird about it, why bother?”

Walt dropped his hands, then spread them out appeasingly.  “When you say` _weird’_ …”

Jesse stared at him, annoyed.  “You _know_ what I mean, man.  Noble.  Guilty.  If you feel so _bad_ about this, why do it?”

Walt put his hands in his back pockets.  “…I didn’t say I felt bad about it.  I guess I was just...thinking about it.  And I was interested to know if _you’d_ thought about it.”

Jesse smiled at him, sarcastically.  “Well, I guess I’m thinking about it _now._ Thanks _._ ”

Walt refused to react.  “Sure.”

Jesse fixed an eye on him.  “So, Mr. White, you didn’t answer my question,” he said.  “ _Do_ you feel bad about it?  What we’re doing, I mean.”

Walt hesitated.  “I guess…that’s not really the issue Jesse.  I’ve made the choice to do it.  Whether or not I feel bad about it isn’t really relevant.”

Jesse put an elbow on the bar and leaned forward.  Walt felt the weight of his focused, somewhat cool blue gaze.  “So…even if you felt this was wrong, if you saw this as a…bad thing, you’d do it anyway.”

Walt looked away.  “Well…no, I didn’t say that.”

“Sure you did.”  Jesse said.

Walt looked back at him.  “No I _didn’t,”_ he replied.  “I said that I’ve made the choice.  I’ve put my feelings aside because they don’t matter now.”

Jesse nodded at him, unsurprised.  “Uh-huh.  So…you’re ducking my question, is what you’re saying.”

Walt sighed, exasperated.  “Okay, fine,” he said.  “You really want to know?  I _do_ feel uncomfortable about what we’re doing.  I _do_ have a sense of moral culpability for my role in someone’s life being negatively affected or even destroyed because of a drug that I make.”  Met Jesse’s eyes.  “But I have the strength of mind to put my feelings aside, once I’ve committed to a course of action.  Not to _let_ my personal feelings impact on my ability to accomplish my strategy.  Which in this case, would be making enough money for my family to live on before the cancer gets me.”

Jesse looked unimpressed.  “So you’re saying that your…ability to keep doing something that you think is wrong is actually a _good_ thing?”

Walt had had enough.  “Jesse—“

“Well, isn’t that what you’re saying?”  Jesse persisted.

Walt gave up.  He looked down.  Eventually said quietly, “Yes.  I guess that’s what I’m saying. I’m saying I have the ability to make the difficult moral choice, and the will to stick with it.”  He looked up, met Jesse’s eyes.  “And I’m not apologizing for that.”  

After a moment, Jesse turned away, looking out towards the dim room.  The two players had racked up again.  The men at the bar were sitting there, faces turned emptily up to the TV.  The bartender and his customer were still quietly talking.  The customer glanced up, met Jesse’s gaze briefly.

Jesse turned back to his partner. 

“And so…I guess that goes for me too,” he said to Mr. White.

Mr. White looked confused.  “What do you mean?”  he asked.

“You made a difficult decision about me too,” Jesse said.  “Didn’t you?  Remember, you told me right after the…first time…that this was wrong, that you shouldn’t have done it.  And then you left.  But then you came back.  Remember?”

Mr. White lifted his glass of beer, took a swallow.  “Yes.”

“But you felt bad about it,” Jesse said.

Mr. White sighed.  “That’s too simple Jesse.  I didn’t feel `bad’ about it, exactly.  I felt the weight of my choices.  That I’d be cheating on my wife.  That I’d be letting you get attached to me, even though I probably have only a few months to live.  I still feel them.”

“But you decided you could live with them.”  Jesse said quietly.

Mr. White nodded.  “Yes.”

Jesse gazed at him.  Mr. White’s face was turned away, his eyes on the room.  Jesse studied the harsh profile.  “And me and your wife,” he said.  “You decided for us too.”

Mr. White glanced at him.  “What do you mean?”

“You decided we could live with your choices too.”  Jesse said.

Mr. White considered this.  Then answered.  “Yes, I guess I did.   Do you think I owe you an apology?”  He looked at Jesse steadily.

Jesse met the level green stare.  Mr. White’s eyes on him were watchful, assessing.  Jesse suddenly thought of their earlier conversation, on experiments.  That’s how Mr. White often looked at him, he realized.  Like a scientist, experimenting with a subject.  Observing the results. 

Jesse wasn’t participating this time.  He set his jaw.  “You tell me,” he replied to Mr. White, snappishly.  “Do _you_ think you owe me an apology?”

Mr. White’s eyes softened.  He smiled at Jesse.  Started to reach out towards him, then stopped himself.  Wrapped his hand around his beer glass.  “I can see you want one,” he replied.  “I guess I didn't exactly take the high road, getting involved with you, did I?”

Jesse didn’t smile back.  “No.”

“Very well, I apologize.”

Jesse wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.  “But that doesn’t make a difference, does it?” he said.

Mr. White stopped smiling.  “No.”

“Because you did it anyway,” Jesse continued.   “And you’re not going to stop now.  Once you decided.  Apology or not.”

Mr. White’s eyes were cool again.  “That’s right.”

“Because that’s what you’re about.”  Jesse stated quietly, meeting his former teacher’s gaze.

Mr. White looked at him ironically.  “That’s right Jesse.  You’re seeing me pretty clearly I guess.  And now I have a question for you.  Do you like what you see?”

Jesse was taken aback.  “What?” he asked, after a pause.

Mr. White smiled at him again, but coldly this time.  “You see who I am,” he said.  “You _see me_.  The man who has made the…difficult choices.”

He leaned forward, spoke softly into Jesse’s ear.  “The meth cooking double murderer.   The cheating husband.  _The man who fucks you._   _That’s who I am.”_

Jesse drew back, appalled.  He felt his cheeks flushing.  He glanced quickly about the room to see if anyone had heard.  No one was looking at them.

Mr. White wasn’t finished.  He continued, his eyes on Jesse.  “I’m not apologizing for who I am.  I’ve apologized for most of my life.  I’m done with that.  So my question to _you_ is, do you _like_ what you _see?_ ” 

Jesse felt his chest tightening.  He looked back at his partner, his gaze raw.  “No,” he whispered.

Mr. White didn’t seem bothered by that.  He moved close to Jesse again, his eyes bright, fixed, an animal’s stare.   

“But that doesn’t make any difference to you, does it?” Mr. White asked softly.  _“Jesse.”_

Jesse felt himself drawn inexorably into that green gaze.  It was suddenly painful to look at Mr. White and be unable to touch him.  He badly wanted to put his face against Mr. White’s warm skin.  He stared at his partner, his lips parting.

“No,” he answered eventually, his voice catching. 

Mr. White was smiling.  He leaned forward, lips tantalizingly close to Jesse’s ear. Whispered.  _“I would like to fuck you right now.”_

Jesse closed his eyes.  He felt a flush rise through his body, turning him red.  He whispered back, his eyes tightly shut.  “ _Mr._ _White…_ stop _._   _Please.”_

Mr. White was silent.  Jesse opened his eyes, looked at him.

Mr. White was gazing at him affectionately, his cold, predatory look quite gone.  “Sorry,” he said.  He got up, stretched.  Drained his beer glass, put it down.   Turned back to Jesse.  “Let’s play some pool, shall we?”

***

Jesse and Walt were on their third game.  They were enjoying themselves, moving lightly around the pool table, bantering with each other.  Jesse hadn’t been exaggerating –he _was_ good at this.   Almost as good as Walt himself, in fact.  They were tied one-one, with Walt winning the first game and Jesse taking the second.  At this point, both were highly invested in winning the third.

Jesse leaned over the head rail, a hand splayed out precisely on the green baize, his pool cue balanced delicately.  He was lining up a shot, blue eyes focused like lasers.  Walt watched him, trying not to look captivated. 

“Fourteen in left corner pocket, off the four.”  Jesse called softly.   He took the shot, the green fourteen ball flying across the table, ricocheting off the four ball and burying itself decisively in the left corner pocket.  Jesse straightened up, smiling. 

“Well done,” Walt said to him.  Jesse slanted a grin at him, and walked quickly around to the side rail.  He chalked his cue, then bent over the table again, eyes steady, lining up another shot. 

Walt observed him silently.  Jesse’s delicately carved features were intent, animated, illuminated exquisitely by the cold fluorescent light.  Threads of gold sparkled in his hair.  His bright blue eyes were lit up, happily engaged, framed by the long gold lashes, and set off like jewels beneath finely curved brows.  His straight white teeth flashed every time he smiled.  He was moving with his trademark supple, unconscious grace, balanced lightly on his feet, his lithe young body curving over the pool table as he lined up and executed shot after skilful shot.

In this dim, rather shabby space, with its population of equally unprepossessing, middle aged men, Jesse stood out like a gleaming white stag in a herd of buffalo.  Walt could see he wasn’t the only one who had noticed.  Since the second game, he and Jesse had had an audience, the men at the bar turning around to watch them, the TV forgotten.  Even the bartender was watching, silently.  A couple of men had approached the table to observe more closely, although still remaining at a courteous distance. 

Jesse and he were playing well, challenging each other enjoyably.  Walt had played competitive pool all through college, a fact he'd shared with Jesse after their first game, not without a certain amount of satisfaction.  Jesse’s look of surprised respect was more important to him than he cared to admit.  But Jesse was really good, although he said he’d never played other than casually, in someone’s basement or a bar.  Walt could see Jesse had the latent talent to become a highly competitive player, with practice and proper training. 

In fact the way Jesse moved around the pool table reminded Walt sharply of the way he handled himself in their lab, his movements light, quick and executed with a neat, economical grace.  Walt gazed at him thoughtfully.

Jesse pocketed his ball and briskly identified his next shot.  He leaned over the side rail, lining it up.  One of the men hanging near their table moved a little closer.   Walt glanced at him casually, and then back again, more carefully.

The various men watching them play had been looking at Jesse admiringly (well, really, how could you not?), but without the undertone of speculation that Walt would have expected, had it been a beautiful woman playing with him, for example.   And Walt had been careful to keep the desire out of his own gaze, a surprisingly difficult accomplishment.

But this fellow, he watched Jesse hungrily, eyes running over him, flickering over Jesse's body.  Walt actually saw him lick his lips.  This was the character who'd been in close conversation with the bartender at the other end of the bar when they'd first come in.  Walt remembered him looking their way. 

Walt glared at him. 

The man felt his stare, turned and met Walt’s eyes.   Before he thought about the implications, Walt narrowed his eyes in a silent challenge _(back off)_.  The man looked surprised, then not so surprised.  He raised his eyebrows at Walt mockingly.  Walt turned away, silently cursing himself.

Jesse happened to look up at that moment and caught Walt’s angry expression.  Distracted, he missed his shot, the ball going wide.  “Damn.”  He straightened up.  “Your turn Mr. White,” he said in his throaty voice.

Walt saw the man register Jesse’s formal mode of addressing him, which, in the context of their silent exchange, seemed suddenly uncomfortably submissive and startlingly sexual.   The man's eyes were on Walt, amused.  Walt turned away.

“Thanks Jesse,” he said evenly, chalking his pool cue.  The man was watching Jesse again, with a hungry, heavy lidded stare.  Walt seethed. 

Then started pocketing ball after ball, determined to end their game and get out of there.

***

Walt had sunk the eight ball.  Jesse was shaking his head. 

“That was really something, Mr. White,” Jesse said.  “Let’s play again.  You can break.”  He started collecting the balls from the pockets.

“I think we should get going, Jesse,” Walt said. 

Jesse looked at him.  “Why?” he said.  “It’s not that late.  When are you expected?”

“It’s not that,” Walt said.  “I’m getting kind of hungry.   And I don’t feel like eating here.  Let’s get going.”

Jesse shrugged.  “Okay,” he said.  “That was awesome, though.  We should do it again.”

Walt smiled at him.  “Okay,” he said.  “We will.  You’re pretty damn good.  You weren’t kidding about that.”

Jesse cocked an eyebrow at him.  “I know,” he said smugly. 

Walt gazed at Jesse, his eyes softening before he could help himself.  Then he glanced around.  Thankfully, they had lost their audience, the men at the bar turned back to the TV, and the two who had been standing near their table moving away.  The slimeball who'd been eyeing Jesse was speaking to the bartender again.  He caught Walt’s eye, stopped speaking briefly.

Jesse reached for Walt’s pool cue.  “I’ll put these away,” he said, gesturing to the row of pool cues fastened to the far wall. 

“Thanks,” Walt said.  He turned to the balls on the table, replacing them in the rack.

Jesse was reaching up, putting away their pool cues, when a voice spoke from behind him.  “Hey kid.” 

Jesse turned around.  It was the man who'd been watching their game, the guy talking to the bartender, a large framed, overweight man in his fifties with rumpled dark hair.  “Yeah?” Jesse said in a neutral tone.

“You looked good out there,” the man said.  He stood close to Jesse, blocking him in against the wall.  “I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Uh huh.”  Jesse started to step by him.  The man shifted, barring his way.  Jesse stopped, staring.  The man leaned close to him.  “That your daddy you're with?” he asked in a low voice, “The one you call Mr. White?”

“Fuck off,”  Jesse said.  He made to leave again.  The man grabbed his arm.  “Get off me man!” Jesse hissed quietly, glaring at him.  The last thing he needed was for Mr. White to see this and go batshit.

“Listen,” the man said, leaning close.  Jesse could see spittle on his lips.  He looked away disgusted.  “You looking for a daddy, I know a guy who’ll really take care of you.  He likes blondes and he’ll go _nuts_ over you.  That guy you’re with he don’t look so rich.”

“I’m not a faggot, asshole, and get your fat fucking paws off me!” Jesse said, still keeping his voice low.

The man smiled at him.  “Sure, kid,” he said.  “You’ve convinced me.”

Over the man’s shoulder Jesse saw Mr. White turn, his eyes seeking the room for Jesse.  He went still, spotting the two of them.  Then started making his way over.  “Great,” Jesse muttered. 

The man still hadn’t let go of him.  Jesse yanked his arm away.  “You’re the fag!” he hissed through clenched teeth.  “Now get lost!” 

The man’s smile broadened.  “Think about it,” he said.  “My guy, I make arrangements for him.  Discreetly, you know?  He likes me to keep my eye out for kids like you.  And I’ve never seen _anything_ like you.  You’re prime.  You need another daddy to spank your ass, you come back here and tell Joe you’re looking for Alex.” He gestured to the bartender. “He’ll get you in touch with me.  You could make a decent buck.”

“Hey.”  Mr. White had come up behind the man’s shoulder.   “Ready to go?”   He looked at Jesse quietly through his glasses.

“Yeah,” Jesse said.  He stepped around the other, heavier man.

The man turned.  “Say,” he said to Mr. White, conversationally, “I was just telling your friend here he plays a great game.”

Mr. White looked at him, a dead eyed fish stare.  “You certainly looked like you were enjoying it,” he replied politely.

The man laughed.  “Yeah,” he said.  “The two of you play great together.”

Mr. White glanced at Jesse.  Jesse felt himself still flushed red from the fat man’s horrible words, which had been embarrassingly on the money.  He cursed his fair skin, which gave everything away.  Could _everybody_ see the situation between him and Mr. White?

Mr. White turned back to the man.  “Compliments from repellent slobs like you really don’t mean much,” he said pleasantly.   “Although I suppose you already know that, sadly.  I wish I could say that I appreciate your admiration but that would be dishonest.   And my friend doesn’t look impressed with you either.  I hope you weren’t bothering him.”

The man’s face turned a mottled red.  He took a threatening step towards Mr. White.  Mr. White stared back at him coldly, his hands in his jacket pockets. 

Jesse stepped forward quickly.  “He wasn’t bothering me Mr. White,” he said.  “It’s cool.”

Both men turned to him.  Jesse glanced briefly at the fat man, then back at Mr. White.  “Let’s go, okay?”

Mr. White looked at Jesse for a moment.  Then he nodded.  “Okay.”  His eyes flicked briefly over the fat man again, then he turned to go.  Jesse closed his eyes briefly in relief, and started to follow him out.

The man called after Jesse in a low voice.  “Think about it, kid.”

Jesse glanced back over his shoulder.  Flipped him the bird.  Saw the man smirk.

***

Jesse and Walt were driving silently in Jesse’s car.  Walt stared out the window, his hands folded on his lap.

Jesse glanced at him.  “So…where do you want to go?”  he asked, tentatively.  “You said you were hungry.” 

Walt kept staring out the window.  “I’m not that hungry,” he answered.  “Your place is fine.”

“Oh,” Jesse replied.  “I thought you said—“

“Yeah,” Walt said.  “I was ready to go, that’s all.”  He paused, then glanced at Jesse.  “So what did that guy say to you?”

“Nothing,” Jesse muttered.

“He said something that upset you,” Walt persisted.  “What was it?”

“He said _nothing,_ man.  He’s a pervert, that’s all.”

Walt wasn’t buying it.  “He asked you to think about something,” he said.  “What was he asking?”

Jesse sighed.  “He offered to introduce me to somebody.  Some even bigger perv who goes for blonde dudes like me, apparently.  Said I could make some money.”

“And you turned him down, of course.”

Jesse glared at him.  “Of _course,_ asshole, why would you even _ask_ that?  Jesus!”

“Sorry.”

Jesse was still incensed.  “It’s bad enough some fat fuck treating me like some faggot hooker, but then _you?_   Fuck!”

“I said I was sorry, Jesse.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry that happened, too.”

Jesse was shaking his head.  “I don’t understand.  I mean, I’ve had guys come onto me before, _that’s_ nothing new, but this guy was convinced I was fucking you.”  He glanced at Walt, distressed.  “I mean, how would he _know?_ ” he asked.  “Is it that obvious?  Do I have like, gay boyfriend written all over me?”

Walt was momentarily distracted by Jesse’s use of the word `boyfriend.’   He reached over to pat Jesse’s knee, then restrained himself.  Not the right time.

“No,” he said, ruefully.  “It wasn’t anything you did at all, Jesse.  It was me.  I saw him looking at you when we were playing, his tongue hanging out, literally I might add, and I got pissed off.  Gave him the eye without thinking.  He figured it out from that.”

Jesse slammed a hand on the steering wheel.  “I knew it!” he exclaimed.  “Mr. White, you’ve got to be more careful, man.  That’s not only totally embarrassing, but in the wrong neighbourhood it could get us both killed.”

Walt stared at him, stung.  “Why would I…embarrass you, Jesse?”  he asked, coldly.

Jesse glanced at him uncomfortably.  “Because…because I’m not gay, that’s why!  All I need is for word to get out about _that._   And also, you’re…I mean, you used to be my _chemistry teacher_.   In _highschool_ for Chrissakes _._ And you’re like…twice my age.  And _married._ So, I mean, how can you even ask me that?  The situation is too weird for me, that’s all.  It’s _not_ something I’m ready to go public about, okay?  And also…why are we even having this conversation?  It’s not like you can say anything about this either.  How long do you think you’d stay married if people found out about me?  Keep your job?”

“So it’s not me personally that you’re uncomfortable with, it’s the situation.”  Walt said.

“Well, yeah,” Jesse said, “but I mean… you _are_ the situation, Mr. White.  How's that going to change?”

Walt considered Jesse's words.   They were driving on Wyoming Boulevard, coming up on Osuna Road.  Which bordered on a large park.  “Turn left,”  Walt said abruptly. 

“What?”  said Jesse.  “Why?”

“Turn left I said!”  Walt repeated.  “Do it!”

Jesse muttered something, then swung the wheel left.  They crossed swiftly through the intersection. 

“Where're we going?” Jesse asked.

“The golf course.”

“The golf course!  Why?”

“You’ll see.”

They continued along Osuna, bordered on one side by the dark, blank space of the park.  The sun had set some time ago and the sky was a clear blue black, scattered with stars.

Walt saw the entrance to the golf course coming up.  “Turn here,” he said.

Jesse shook his head, turning.  There was a large parking lot on their left, sparsely populated with cars.  Walt gestured.  “Turn into the parking lot.”

“Mr. White, what are we doing?”  Jesse asked, turning the car.  “I’d really like to know.”

“Drive through.”  Walt said, ignoring him.  “All the way to the end.”

Jesse drove through the rows of parked cars.  The parking lot opened up into a large, dark paved space, empty, surrounded by fields of sandy grass.  There were no streetlights.  “Drive to the end of this paved piece and park.”  Walt said.  Jesse did so.  The car stopped, an empty lake of asphalt on one side and a dark expanse of grass on the other.  “Kill the lights,” Walt said softly.   Jesse turned off the lights.  They were plunged into darkness, the sounds of traffic on Osuna rumbling faintly in the distance.

Jesse turned towards Walt.  “Okay, Mr. White, we’re here,” he said.  “So what’s going on?”

Walt smiled at him.  Jesse’s eyes were glittering faintly in the dark.  Walt took off his seatbelt, then removed his glasses, placing them in the glove compartment.  Turned back to Jesse.  “What’s going on is…I’m going to fuck you in your car,” he said.

Jesse sprang back, as far as the front seat would allow.  “Man, you _are not_!” he said.  He put both hands up, palms out.  “ _No_ Mr. White, forget it!”

Walt was laughing.  He reached for Jesse.  “You must have had sex in a car before,” he said. 

“Yeah, but with a chick, not with a guy!”  Jesse responded, sounding panicky.  “We’re not doing this Mr. White, no way!”

“Oh yes we are,” Walt said.  He was batting away Jesse’s hands, undoing his seatbelt.  “The only way this isn't happening is if you make enough noise to get someone’s attention, which I imagine you don’t want to do, not wanting to be _embarrassed_ , I understand.”

“Yeah, well what about you?”  Jesse hissed. 

“I guess I’m trusting you with my reputation too,” Walt replied blithely.  He put his hands on either side of Jesse’s face.  Then kissed him.

Jesse tried futilely to turn his head against the firm clamp of Walt’s hands.  He was making growling noises of protest against Walt’s mouth.  His teeth were clenched. 

“Let me in, Jesse,” Walt muttered.  “Stop fighting me.”

Jesse pulled his mouth free, gasped “—No!” before Walt’s mouth covered his again.  His hands pushed painfully against Walt’s ribs.

Walt was losing patience. 

He raised his head, looked down at his partner’s angry face.  His hand went to Jesse’s cock, stroking its rigid length.  “Why are you putting up a fuss?”  Walt asked.  “Is that part of the fun for you?”

“No,” Jesse snapped.   “It’s because I don’t want _to do this_ here.  I’m _uncomfortable.”_

“I see,” Walt said.  “Well, I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable, but we’ll just have to work through it.  You don’t really have a choice in the matter, remember?”

Walt could feel Jesse’s chest heaving against him.  The younger man had been leaning back against the driver’s seat, leaning away from Walt. Now Walt felt Jesse's body settling against his, reluctantly. “You serious?” Jesse asked him faintly.

“Why would you think I wasn’t serious?” Walk replied.  His hands went to the waistband of Jesse’s jeans, undoing, unzipping, freeing Jesse’s cock from the restraining fabric of his cotton undershorts, his fingers encircling its silky length.  Then he bent and put his mouth over it, sucking strongly. 

Jesse’s head fell back against the seat.  He felt a moan coming to his lips and bit it down.  Mr. White’s hot mouth enclosed his cock tightly, his tongue rasping, his mouth pulling, tightening around the sensitive glans with an exquisite suction.  Jesse moved his hips involuntarily, felt his partner respond, drawing him in tighter, more deeply.  Jesse’s hands went to Mr. White’s head, his palms registering the warm, prickly texture of Mr. White’s shaven scalp.

Mr. White continued to feed on him, relentlessly.  He knew what Jesse liked, now, and proceeded methodically through each variation, running his mouth and tongue along Jesse’s cock like he was playing an instrument.  Jesse began moaning helplessly, his hands clasping Mr. White’s head.  He started to shudder.

Mr. White stopped, sat up.  He looked coolly at Jesse, somewhat angrily, almost like he was considering striking him.  Jesse winced back involuntarily.  Then Mr. White grasped his jaw with one hand, fingers digging in, opening Jesse’s mouth.  He leaned over and kissed Jesse strongly, thrusting his tongue down Jesse’s throat.  His other hand went to Jesse’s cock, still wet and slick with saliva, and started pumping it, thumbing it roughly.  Jesse made a strangled sound of pleasure.  His arms went automatically around Mr. White, hands splayed out against his partner’s back.

Mr. White broke the kiss, spoke softly into Jesse’s mouth.  “You’re such a hot little bitch, Jesse.  You know that about yourself don’t you?”

Jesse shook his head.  Heard Mr. White laugh softly.  “You know it,” he repeated.  His mouth went to Jesse’s throat, sucking against the skin.  Whispered, “You _liked_ those men watching you, admiring you…you _enjoy_ having them pant after you like dogs after a bitch in heat…doesn’t matter if they’re disgusting bags of flesh like your friend back at the bar, it’s _the act_ that counts for you, isn’t it?”

“That’s _not true!”_ Jesse protested, breathlessly.  Mr. White’s hard lips were searching the sensitive skin of his throat, his moustache tickling.  His callused hand enclosed Jesse’s cock, pulling on it. 

“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea, renting you out,” Mr. White continued thoughtfully.  “I’ll keep you chained up on the bed, up on your hands and knees, charge men by the hour to fuck your exquisite ass.  Or your mouth.”

A shiver passed through Jesse at Mr. White’s appalling words.  Mr. White noticed.  “Oh, you _liked_ that did you?”  His hand tightened painfully around Jesse’s cock.  Then he shoved his other hand under Jesse’s shirt, found a nipple and clamped down on it, very roughly, pulling and twisting.  His mouth covered Jesse’s again.

Jesse was moaning, writhing back against the seat.  Mr. White abruptly released him.  “Get in the back.  Now.” he said. “Hurry up.”

Jesse opened his eyes, looked up at his partner.  “Do it, Jesse,” Mr. White said softly. 

Jesse pushed himself up.  He clambered over the front seat, landing somewhat awkwardly on the car’s long back seat.  Glanced back at Mr. White.   His former teacher was watching him.

“Very good,” Mr. White said.  “Now lie on your front and pull down your pants.  Lift up your shirt.  I want to see your ass.”  After a moment, Jesse complied, shifting his clothes, exposing his bottom to the cool air.  He felt his cock rubbing against the vinyl of the seat.  He closed his eyes.  “Beautiful,” he heard Mr. White whisper.   Then heard him open and close the glove compartment.  Open and close the passenger door.  Then Mr. White joined him in the back, his movements constrained by the cramped space.

Jesse felt Mr. White’s fingers probing his ass, cold and slippery with lubricant.  “Where’d you get that?” he asked.

“I had it in the glove compartment,” Mr. White answered back.

“Jesus,”  Jesse muttered.  Heard Mr. White laugh softly.

Then his hands were on Jesse’s hips, moving him.  “Spread your legs,” Mr. White whispered.  A hand patting him.  “Up.  That’s it.”  Strong thumbs against Jesse’s anus, opening him.  And then Mr. White pushing in, his cock slippery with lubricant, smoothly stretching the sensitive tissues, probing deep into Jesse’s body, coming up to rub strongly against the hidden prostate gland.  Jesse gasped, overcome again by the sensation of being helplessly filled, his body opened and skewered by Mr. White’s cock. 

Mr. White started bucking hard and fast against Jesse’s ass, riding him, his weight pressing Jesse down, causing his cock to rub painfully against the vinyl seat.  Both of them were somewhat awkward, their positions contorted by the small space of the car.  Jesse was grimacing.   “Ouch, Mr. White—“

“Be quiet.”  Mr. White was speaking through his teeth.  He was breathing heavily, almost panting.  “You can speak when I’m done with you.”  Jesse gritted his teeth and shut his eyes, waiting.

Mr. White continued to thrust roughly into him, his cock jabbing against Jesse’s sensitive flesh, the discomfort of the stinging, burning friction competing with the tentacles of pleasure starting to curl up within Jesse’s body.  Then Mr. White began groaning, shuddering.  Jesse felt his partner’s cock expanding, pumping into him.  Mr. White collapsed heavily on top of him. 

Jesse was trapped uncomfortably beneath Mr. White’s warm, large body, his cheek pressed against the seat, now slick with sweat.  He felt his partner’s cock softening inside him.  Mr. White’s breath slowing.  Then his rumbling voice.  “Did you come?”

“No.”

Mr. White levered himself up, pulled out of Jesse.  “Turn over.”  Strong hands on Jesse’s sides, flipping him over.

“Mr. White, what—“

“Shush.”  Mr. White buried his head against Jesse’s groin, taking Jesse’s cock into his mouth again.  His hands went around Jesse’s balls, carefully pulling them up and then circling one hand firmly around their base, pulling the skin taught.  He ran the fingers of his other hand lightly over the stretched and sensitive skin.  He curled his tongue tightly against the underside of Jesse’s shaft, sucking strongly and rapidly on Jesse’s cock.

Jesse gave himself up completely to this final assault on his body, rolling his head, straining up against Mr. White’s mouth, crying out helplessly, his hands clutching Mr. White’s head.   He heard Mr. White gasp something against his cock. “Sh-shh!”  A large hand came up, covering Jesse’s mouth.  

Jesse felt his orgasm spiral through him, shattering.  He thrust his hips up against Mr. White’s mouth, fucking his partner’s mouth, and then spilled into him, a final wave of pleasure roaring through him.  Felt Mr. White swallow. 

Mr. White released his cock, his hands coming up to lie lightly along Jesse’s sides, his face resting on Jesse’s belly.  Jesse was still breathing rapidly, sweat cooling on his body.  He shivered.

Mr. White raised his head.  He looked at Jesse, then grasped the waist band of Jesse’s shorts and pants.  “Lift your bottom,” he said.  Jesse did so, allowing Mr. White to pull up his pants, tidy him.  Mr. White re-arranged his own clothes, buckling his belt.  Jesse watched him quietly.  “Let’s get going,”  Mr. White said.

Jesse started to get up. “Just a moment,” Mr. White said.  He leaned over Jesse, then kissed him on the lips.  Then he kissed Jesse’s throat.  Lowered his head and kissed Jesse’s belly, nuzzling his head against him briefly.  Then kissed Jesse’s cock through his jeans, pressing his face against it.  Raised his head again.  His eyes were soft, but not warm.

“Never forget that you’re mine,” Mr. White said.  “People can look, but they can’t touch.  Only me.  Got it?  You’re not to be with anyone else.  Not to look at anyone else.  Not to _think_ about anyone else.  Not without my permission.  Understand?”

Jesse looked at him, swallowed.  “What do you mean, _permission?_ ” he asked.

Mr. White smiled at him.  “I might give you permission to have a girl again,” he said.  “Eventually.  I don’t want to deprive you of that.  And I might want to watch.  But no men.  Ever.”  He wasn’t smiling now.  “You understand me, Jesse?”  

Jesse stared at his partner.  This was the man who had murdered two people.  “Yes,” he whispered.

“Very good.”  Mr. White smiled again, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.  “And try not to encourage them, will you?  Any more than you would by just breathing.  If I get the feeling you’re encouraging them, what do you think I’ll do, Jesse?”

“You’ll punish me,”  Jesse replied.

Mr. White nodded.  “I will,” he agreed.  “Very hard.  I guarantee you won’t enjoy it.  But we won’t get to that point, will we Jesse?  Because you’ll be careful.”

“I’ll be careful,” Jesse agreed, softly.

Mr. White’s eyes had softened again, and now they were warm.  He bent and kissed Jesse lingeringly.  “You’re beautiful,” he said, his rumbling voice smoothing out like velvet.  “I adore you.”  Kissed Jesse again.  Jesse put his hands lightly on Mr. White’s body.  He closed his eyes.

Walt raised his head, looked down at his partner’s upturned face, the long lashes spread against Jesse’s cheeks, his lips slightly parted.  He ran his fingers along the pure curve of Jesse’s cheek.  Jesse’s eyes opened, a dark mysterious blue.

Walt smiled at him tenderly.  “You’re incredible,” he said.  “My gift.”

Jesse gaze was on him, searching.

Walt sat back.  “Let’s go,” he said.  “It’s getting late.”

Jesse didn’t answer.


	21. Chapter 21

Jesse turned onto his street.   The neighbourhood around them was dark, quiet, faintly illuminated by streetlights shining through the leaves of the tall, well established trees.  

He and Walt were discussing the relative merits of dogs.

“Uh-uh.”  Jesse said.  “I’m telling you man, German Shepherds are definitely the way to go.  They’re super smart, they can do a job, they’ll guard your family.  And no one messes with a German Shepherd.  I mean, would you?  They’re the best.  If I was going to get a dog again, I’d get a German Shepherd.”

“They seem like a lot of work,” said Walt.  “Smart dog like that gets bored easily.  In a city, especially if you’re not around that much during the day, I don’t think a dog like that is such a great fit.  Not fair to the dog, really.  Plus aren’t they supposed to be kind of dangerous?  They look like wolves.”

Jesse snorted. “They don’t look like wolves, man.  Wolves are wolves.  Don’t you watch Discovery Channel?“

“Once in awhile.  Not often.”

“I thought you’d go for that sort of thing.”  Jesse said.

“Why?” Walt asked.

Jesse glanced at him.  “I dunno…like maybe the _science?_   I mean that’s what you’re all about right?  Scientific _discovery_ , asking the questions…”

Walt turned his head, looked out the car window at the dark street.  “I guess I’m not interested in science that’s been dumbed down for the masses,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” Jesse responded dryly.  “That didn’t sound bitter _at all.”_

Walt laughed.  “Yeah, I guess that was rather bitter, wasn’t it?  All those stories on scientific discoveries made by someone else.  Not by me.”

Jesse’s voice was sincere.  “Well I’m telling you Mr. White, that blue meth, that’s one helluva a discovery.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  That’s going to blow everyone away.”

Walt smiled.  “Do you think it’s Discovery Channel worthy?”

“For sure,” Jesse answered.  “ _I’d_ watch a show on it.”

“Well, I guess as a dealer _and_ a user, you’d have a vested interest in a show like that,” Walt said.

Jesse didn't like that. "Don’t be an asshole man, I was trying to say something nice.  And what’s ` _vested?’”_ he asked, after a moment.

“’ _Vested’_ means you have an unquestionable right to something,” Walt explained.  “That no one would question your interest or involvement with that thing.  That it was _vested_ in you.”

“Vested in me.” Jesse repeated doubtfully.

“Yes.”  Walt paused, thoughtful.  Continued quietly.  “ _Given_ to you.   Bestowed.”

 Jesse considered this. “Given to me...” he began.

“That’s right.”

Jesse laughed without amusement.  “Given to me," he said again.  "Me and meth.  My mission.”

“Sure.”  Walt didn’t comment further.

They’d reached Jesse’s house.  Jesse pulled into his driveway, turned off the engine and lights. 

The car was quiet in the dark.  Jesse sat with his hands on the steering wheel, unspeaking.

Walt looked at him.  “Well,” he said, eventually.  “I should get going.  My wife’ll be getting worried.”

Jesse didn’t say anything.

“I’ll come by around two on Wednesday to pick you up.” Walt continued.  “The meet’s at three.  I expect Tuco’s going to want more pretty quickly after he samples this.  We need to be ready to cook again, soon.  And not at your house.  Any word on the RV?”

“No,” Jesse said briefly.  “I didn’t get around to it today.”

“Could you look into it tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

Walt regarded his partner.  Jesse was looking at his hands, still resting on the steering wheel.

“I enjoyed our time today,” Walt said tentatively.  “Thanks for coming with me.”

“Glad you had fun.”  Jesse said.

Walt sighed.  “Okay.  Goodnight, Jesse.”  He leaned over for a kiss, then thought the better of it.  Undid his seatbelt, started to exit the car.  Jesse was still sitting there. 

Walt paused.  “Let’s get going,” he said.

“You go on,” Jesse replied.

“What, you’re going to just sit there?”  Walt asked.

“Yeah.”

“No.”  Walt got out of the car, walked around to the driver’s side.  Opened the door.  “Come on, Jesse, get up.  I’ll walk you inside.  Come on.”

Jesse looked at him.  Walt bent down, undid his seatbelt.  “Come on,” he said softly.   

After a moment, Jesse got out of the car.  Walked towards his front door without looking at Walt.  Walt followed him. 

Jesse unlocked the door and let himself in, switching on the light in the front room.  Walt followed, closing the door behind him.  Jesse turned, faced him.  “Aren’t you going?”

“In a moment.”   Walt put his arms around the younger man.  Rested his face against the soft hair.  Breathed him in.  Jesse was still at first, not responding.  Then his arms went around Walt’s waist.   Walt felt Jesse breathing against him.  He was silent. 

“Do you want me to walk you upstairs?”  Walt asked, eventually.

“No.” Jesse replied.

“Well, okay then.”  Walt said.  He kissed the side of Jesse’s head, then kissed his mouth, briefly.  Released Jesse from his embrace.  “Good night.”

Jesse’s hands were still on Walt’s waist.  “I don’t want you to go,” he said quietly.

Walt looked at him.   Jesse’s eyes were lowered.

“I can’t stay, Jesse,” Walt replied softly.  “I’m sorry.”

Jesse didn’t say anything.  His hands remained on Walt’s waist.  After a moment, Walt gently removed them, held Jesse’s hands in his own.  Looked at his young partner, the bent head. 

“I don’t want to go either,” Walt said.

Jesse had closed his eyes.  Walt kissed him again, felt Jesse’s hands curl in his grip.  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.  Then released Jesse’s hands. 

Jesse opened his eyes, looked up.  His blue eyes were shadowed.  After a moment, he said.  “Well, what are you waiting for?  Go then.”

Walt sighed.  “Yeah.”  He looked at his partner briefly, then turned and let himself out.  Heard Jesse lock the door behind him.  Glanced back and saw that the house was dark.  Jesse had turned off the lights.  Walt halted briefly on the path.  Then he continued, making his way to his car.  Got in and drove away.

Thought about Jesse standing behind his front door, his hand on the lightswitch, flicking it off.

Standing silently in the dark.

***

Skyler was sitting on the couch when he got home. 

Walt had let himself in quietly, hoping she was already in bed.

No such luck.

Her blue eyes were on him, gazing at him steadily.

“Hey Walt.”

“Hey sweetheart.”  Walt took off his jacket, smiled briefly at her.

“It’s pretty late.”

“Yeah.”

“Where were you?”  Skyler asked.

Walt shrugged. “Oh just out, you know, driving around.  Went for a walk in the desert.”

Skyler kept looking at him.  “Uh huh.  Why didn’t you call after it got dark?  I was worried.  And you weren’t answering your phone.”

Walt sighed.  “I’m sorry Skyler, I didn’t realize—“ Walt made a show of taking out his phone, looking at it.   “I’m sorry honey, I had it off.   Forgotten I’d done that.  I’m sorry I worried you.”

Skyler kept staring at him.  Then said, slowly.  “I guess I shouldn’t really be worried anymore, should I?  This is so habitual for you now.  These long drives.  These `nature walks’ of yours.  These periods where you just drop out of sight, can’t be reached, don’t call me.  Not anymore anyway.  It’s like you don’t care enough even to try for an excuse.”

Walt stood before her, looking down at her.  After a moment he said carefully, “Are you suggesting I need an excuse?”

Skyler’s jaw was set.  Her eyes were on him like sharp spikes, penetrating.   Her voice was tight.  “I don’t know Walt, do you?  Is there something I should know about?”  Walt stared back at her, wordless. 

Skyler continued.  “Do you think, Walt, that you can just…come and go, disappear for hours at a time, change your whole routine, and you don’t owe me any explanation?”  She tilted her head at him expectantly.

Walt spread his hands.  “You’re making too much of this,” he said.  “I’m off work, have nothing to do right now.  I can’t sit around the house all day—“

Skyler ignored this.  She continued, her voice rising.  “I’m thinking…here I am, your wife.  Your _pregnant_ wife.  Married to you for sixteen years.   Raising a son with you.  Sharing a _life_ , Walt.  And now these last few months …the way you behave, the way you act, changing so drastically.   And you don’t even _talk_ to me!  You just do these things and expect me to, what, not wonder why?”  Her eyes were starting to glisten.

Walt looked away.  He sat down beside his wife on the couch, put his hands on his knees.  Looked down at his hands.  “Skyler, can I say something to you?” he eventually asked.

Skyler laughed incredulously.  “Please _do._ ”

Walt didn’t react to that.  He took a deep breath.  Said.  “I _have_ changed, Skyler.  You’re right.”

Skyler watched him silently, waiting.

Walt continued.  “And you appear to think there is something wrong about that.  Something off.  Something that requires an explanation.”

“Who wouldn’t?”  Skyler answered.

“Well I’m getting to that,” Walt said.  Turned his head, looked at his wife.   Asked her.  “What happened a short while ago, Skyler?  To me?”

Skyler frowned.  “Walt, what—“

“What _happened_ , Skyler, to _me_?”  Walt asked again.  His voice rose also.

Skyler looked down.  “You were diagnosed with cancer.”

“That’s right, honey,” Walt said.  “Lung cancer.  Incurable.  Do you understand what that means?”

Skyler sighed.  “Of _course_ I do, Walt, but—“

“No,” Walt interrupted her.  “I don’t think you really do.  You haven’t let yourself understand what that means, for me.  Because if you did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Skyler looked at him.  Walt continued.  “What that diagnosis means, Skyler, is that, in a relatively short period of time, _I will end_.  My life that I thought I’d have with you, seeing our kids grow up together, growing old together, that’s been cut short.”

Skyler’s gaze was distressed.  “So you don’t think the treatment is going to work.”

Walt shrugged.  “It may.  It may work, for a time.  But you know the odds just like I do.”

Skyler’s face twisted.  “But _Walt_ , don’t you just—“

Walt raised a hand.  “I haven’t finished,” he said.   Continued.  “So with this new knowledge then, about myself, this sad, unwelcome knowledge...don’t you think it’s reasonable that my behaviour might change?  That those _routines,_ as you call them, that you and I have been used to, that they may not fit me anymore?”

Skyler’s chest started to heave.  “Oh, you mean like the routines of spending time with your family?” she asked angrily.  “Letting us know where you are?   Talking to me?  Sharing what’s in your head with _your wife?”_

“Maybe even those.”  Walt said.

They looked at each other.

Skyler’s eyes filled with tears.  Her voice broke.  “I feel like I don’t know you anymore.  And now I’m wondering, did I ever know you at all?  Were you just _pretending_ to be that man I was married to, all these years?”

Walt looked down.  “I’m not surprised you feel that way,” he said, eventually.  “Because I feel the same way too.  That before this happened I…didn’t know myself.  Not in the way I do now.  My perspective on myself and my life has been changed, by this.”

Skyler’s voice was bitter.  “Changed not to include me or your son, I guess.”

Walt looked back at her.  “That’s not true Skyler.   You’re got to give me some room, that’s all.  Some time to come to terms with this in my own way.”   He paused. 

Then continued, his voice intense.  “I’m sorry if I’ve distressed you.  I truly am.  But you’ve got to _trust me_ on this.  You and Junior are my first priority.  Always and forever.   You’re my wife.  I would never, _ever_ do anything to betray you.  Your love, your faith in me over the years, that’s been the most important thing in the world to me.”  Walt looked down at his hands, his mouth tight.  Those last words were true.  He had taken them for granted, until recently.

Skyler was silent, considering.  Then said, hesitantly.  “So these long drives of yours…”

“I can’t be in the house all day,” Walt replied.  “How long do I have on this planet Skyler?  I need to feel the sun on my face.”

“And the fact that you don’t call, I can’t reach you…”

“I’m sorry about that,” Walt said.  “I’ve been distressed and trying to come to terms with this like I’ve told you.  Haven’t been wanting to talk.  But I’ll be more sensitive about that from now on.  I’ll call.  I’ll make sure I’m reachable.”

Skyler sighed.  Then said, “Okay, Walt.  I’ll give you some room.  I understand that.  I’ll try not to worry about you going out like you do.”  Took another breath.  Then continued, her voice rising again. “But can I ask, as your wife, can you please keep talking to me?  You kept the fact you had cancer from me for _weeks_.  Do you have any idea how that made me feel?”

“I’m sorry.”  Walt answered softly.

Skyler nodded.  “Yes.  So do you understand then, that if something else happens that affects you, that’s something I need to _know about_.  Okay?  I mean, that, that _affects_ _me_. _”_   

Walt stared at her.  Her words sounded startlingly familiar.  Then he remembered.  Jesse.  Jesse had said the same thing to him on the day before their first cook.  Before everything had happened.  The things that were irreversible.  

“I promise that I'll keep talking to you,” Walt said.  His voice broke. “I’ll share whatever is important.  I won’t hold back.”

Skyler looked at him searchingly.  “You’ll remember I’m your wife?” she asked.  “I love you, Walt.  I’m here for you.  Always.”

Walt stroked her cheek.  “Yes,” he said.  His voice was gentle.  “I never forget.  And I love you too.  You’ve been the love of my life.”  _(My life I do still have it, I’m still here I am, still)._   Walt looked away.

Skyler laid her head on his shoulder. 

After a moment, she said quietly.  “I don’t want you to go.”

Walt closed his eyes.  Jesse's words.

He took her hand.  “I know,” he said, sadly.

They sat together quietly on the couch. 

Then Walt said, “Come on, let’s go to bed.”  He got up, pulled Skyler to her feet.  Put a hand briefly on her protruding belly, met his wife’s eyes.   New life, coming.

Skyler and Walt gazed at each other for a moment.  Then walked down the hallway to their bedroom together, arms around each other’s waists.

***

Jesse woke up slowly, gradually becoming conscious of a hard arm lying heavily across his waist.  A bristly chin was scratching against the back of his neck.  His body was cradled in a warm, hairy embrace.  _Mr. White._   Was this for real?  He blinked, his eyes focusing groggily on the bong sitting on the floor next to his bed.  He’d gotten good and toked last night, after Mr. White had left.

He felt Mr. White’s warm breath on the back of his neck.  The broad, hairy chest was pressed up against his back.  It didn’t feel like his partner was wearing any clothes.   

“Mr. White.  What are you doing here?”  Jesse’s voice was croaky with sleep.  Felt his partner’s lips against his neck.

“I wanted to lie in bed with you,” Mr. White said.  “I came as soon as I could.”

“What time is it?”  Jesse asked.

“Not so early,” Mr. White replied.  “You slept late.”

“I was up late,” Jesse said.

“I figured.”  Mr. White shifted, slipped a hand under Jesse’s light cotton t-shirt and started to stroke his back. 

Jesse closed his eyes.  “Mm, right there,” he murmured.  Heard Mr. White's soft laugh.  Then strong fingers were digging deliciously into the muscles of his back, his shoulders, the back of his neck. 

Jesse relaxed into a half sleep, drifting under Mr. White’s touch.

***

He woke up again when a large hand cupped his bottom, through the thin material of his shorts.  “How’s this?”  Mr. White’s rumbling voice.

“Alright.”  Jesse replied.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.  It’ll be time to take care of you again, before too long.”

Jesse felt his breath catch.  “Take care of me how?” he asked, after a moment.

“Another spanking,” Mr. White replied, his voice matter of fact.  “I want to keep them fairly regular.  I think I’ll put you over my knee again, this time.”  Mr. White was caressing Jesse’s bottom, stroking it.

Jesse closed his eyes briefly at this.  Against his will he found himself flushing, hardening at Mr. White’s words.  Damn Mr. White for having this effect on him.

“Why do you want to keep them regular?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“It will be good for you,” Mr. White replied.  “Keep you focused.”

Jesse let out a breath.  Then he turned around.  Looked at his partner’s harshly angled face, lying close to him on the pillow.  The narrow green eyes, gazing at him calmly.  He looped an arm around Mr. White’s neck.

“You like spanking me, don’t you?”  Jesse said to him.

Mr. White smiled at him, a flash of white teeth.  “Yes.  Very much.”

Jesse moved closer, pressing the hard bulge of his cock into Mr. White’s groin.  Mr. White stopped smiling.  Jesse put his face against Mr. White’s throat, felt the warm pulse jumping.  “Tell me what you like about it.”  Jesse whispered.  He leaned forward into his partner’s body.

Mr. White stroked a hand down between Jesse’s legs, pushed it through the flap of Jesse’s undershorts, folding fingers and thumb around his cock.  Started pulling on him, gently. 

Spoke softly into Jesse’s ear.  “I like hearing the sound of the blows smacking your ass.  I like seeing how you wince and shiver when I hit you.  And then how the marks start to surface on those white cheeks of yours, how they turn pink and then red.  I like seeing how you wriggle around as the pain starts to build, and how you fight the pain, trying not to cry, trying not to beg me to stop.”  

He stroked Jesse’s cock, which was now throbbing, rigid in his hand.  His voice softened further.  “And then how you break when the pain becomes too much for you and you’re crying, pleading with me.”  His thumb stroked the tip of Jesse’s cock.  “I love that.”  Mr. White said in a low voice.

Jesse was shuddering, his whole being focused on Mr. White's calloused fingers, rubbing the sensitive skin of his cock.  “Go on,” he whispered.  “Tell me what you’re going to do to me.”

Mr. White whispered back to him.  “I’m going to put you on a strict schedule –we’ll mark it on a calendar.  And you'll come to me to be spanked on those days.  To present yourself according to my instructions, bringing the hairbrush or wooden spoon, or whatever implement I’ve told you to bring with you.“  His hand was caressing Jesse’s cock rhythmically, up and down.  “You’re going to hand it to me.  And then you’re going to put yourself over my knee, bare bottom in the air, waiting.  You’re going to ask me to spank you, hard.  And then you’re going to count the blows, one by one.”

A tingling pleasure was building irresistibly in Jesse's body.   He bent his head, tucking himself under Mr. White’s chin.  Opened his mouth against Mr. White’s chest.  Thrust his cock tightly against Mr. White’s fingers.  “Go on,” he breathed. 

Mr. White continued, in a fierce, low voice.  “And I’m going to spank you very, _very_  hard, just like you asked.  And you’re going to feel yourself going crazy from the pain, but you’re going to love it, you’re going to love it because it’s _me_ doing that to you, and you’re my hot little bitch, aren’t you Jesse?”  Mr. White’s hand was pumping his cock mercilessly.  Jesse felt the pleasure finally break through him and he surrendered to it, coming strongly, his breath shaking, spilling into Mr. White’s hand.

Jesse’s forehead was resting against Mr. White’s chest.  Mr. White held him, one hand gently stroking his back.     

“I’m considering whether to fuck you right now,” Mr. White said, after a moment.

Jesse winced.  “Can you maybe hold off?” he asked.  “I’m a little sore from yesterday.”

Mr. White chuckled.  “Are you asking me for a break?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.  But you’ll have to do something for me in return.  On your knees.  Later.”

Jesse sighed.  “Fine.”  He felt Mr. White shake his head.  “That’s not the way to answer Jesse, try again.”

Jesse swallowed.  “Yes Mr. White.”

“Very good.”

Jesse lay quietly on the bed.  Mr. White continued to stroke him.  Jesse felt himself getting sleepy again.  “I want to stay here awhile, okay?” he mumbled.  “Not ready to get up yet.”

“Sure,” he heard Mr. White say back.  “I’m fine here too.”

Jesse was drifting off. 

Heard Mr. White’s voice, murmuring.  “My precious boy.”

And then Mr. White's arms around him, the strong, warm body beside him, quietly breathing.


	22. Chapter 22

Walt cradled Jesse in his arms.  Jesse had fallen asleep again pretty quickly.  Given his groggy state, Walt wondered whether he had really woken all the way up.  Maybe he’d remember this little interlude as a dream (hopefully a good one). 

The young man was pressed against Walt’s body, arms around him, legs entwined with his.   Jesse’s head was pillowed on his chest.  Walt put his nose against him, breathed in his scent.  It was hard to find, this morning.

Despite the window Walt had opened, the oily, pungent smell of marijuana was still noticeable in the bedroom and permeated Jesse’s hair and skin.  Walt sighed. 

***

Earlier, climbing quietly up the stairs, Walt had noticed the smell, which hit him heavily as soon as he opened the bedroom door.

He observed Jesse sleeping on the bed, tangled messily in a heap of covers, with just the top of his untidy head visible and both feet sticking out.  Drug paraphernalia was scattered on the nightstand and the floor, including a large, complicated looking red glass waterpipe.  Walt shook his head.  Where had Jesse gotten that?  He thought he’d thrown out all that stuff.

Walt turned and walked down the hall to a guest bedroom, relatively pristine and unscathed by the young man’s clutter covering the rest of the house.   Most importantly, there was no drug smell.  He undressed and laid his clothes out neatly on the bed.  Glanced with brief curiosity around the room.  There were paperback books on the light maple bookshelf and pencilled drawings of comic book characters taped to the walls.  They looked like they dated from an earlier Jesse.  This must be the room he'd stayed in when his aunt was still alive.  Walt considered the lively lines of the drawings for a moment, then left, closing the door behind him.

Naked, Walt walked over to Jesse’s bed and stood over his unconscious partner.

Jesse lay limp in sleep, tangled in the covers like a sleeping cat.  He was on his back, face partially covered by a corner of the quilt, finely drawn eyebrows and smooth forehead just visible, his fluffy blonde hair sticking up chaotically.  One hand was resting on the mattress, slender fingers curving upwards.  Jesse’s legs were sprawled, bare feet protruding from the bottom of the mound of fabric.  

Walt regarded his partner’s feet.  They were narrow and well formed, as graceful as the rest of him.  He put a hand lightly on one foot.

Walt hadn’t intended coming here today.   He was conscious of the increasing hours spent with Jesse, either cooking or just hanging at the kid’s house, hours that he _wasn’t_  with his family, as Skyler had rightly pointed out.  After a whole weekend together, he hadn’t planned to come to Jesse’s house _yesterday,_ much less taking the kid out to do things.

But he seemed unable to stop himself. 

He thought about the conversation with his wife.  Skyler knew him well.  She felt the change between them instinctively.  Something was off.  His words about the cancer and his struggle to come to terms with it might help temporarily, but they were bandages only.  If his obsession with Jesse continued at this pace, Walt wasn't sure he could hide it. It was like pretending that a flood wasn’t happening.

And Jesse.   The kid was wanting more from him.  Had for some time, although to his credit he hadn’t pushed Walt at all.  And it had been convenient for Walt not to see.

Jesse's isolation. 

And need for him.   

And Jesse’s…sadness.  Jesse had been clear to Walt about that.  And Walt knew that anyway, about him.  He remembered Jesse’s underlay of sadness quite well, from Jesse’s days as his student.  Sadness and a brittle vulnerability, a lack of self regard beneath his brash, careless behaviour and the rejection of his middleclass upbringing.

Walt remembered his own reaction at that time.  He’d tried to help Jesse within his limited means as a teacher, went out of his way, in fact.   Probably clumsily –Jesse didn’t seem to remember him too fondly.  And certainly not effectively, as Jesse’s subsequent years as a drug dealer and faithful client of his own product would demonstrate.  But still.  He’d cared enough to try.  Jesse had stood out to him from the herd of disengaged, self absorbed, aggravating teenagers, even then.

But now. 

Jesse’s sadness had a darker, wilder edge.  A self destructive quality, further layering the fragility he'd first noticed in the teenage Jesse.

It was that self destructive quality that drew Jesse to use drugs probably.  But also...

Walt's hand involuntarily tightened on Jesse’s foot.  He let go quickly.

It was also that quality which drew him to Walt.  Did Jesse see it? 

Walt was pretty sure he did.

And, if Walt was to be completely honest here…it was that quality about Jesse...  _(to break upon the dark grief)_

It was that quality that drew Walt to him.

It made Jesse precious to him.

Walt watched his partner sleeping. 

He had a choice here.  He could leave this room, get himself dressed, drive back to Skyler and his son.  Tell Jesse this was over, that they were business partners only, starting now.

They could stop this.  It would be better for both of them.

Walt could do this.  It would be difficult, but he could end this attachment.   Hadn’t he been going on about this exact kind of thing last night?  That he had the will to stick with his choices, putting his feelings aside?

He could do this.  It was the right choice.

***

But Jesse’s blue eyes on him, searching.

_(I don’t want you to go)_

The way he pressed himself into Walt, like he was trying to bury himself in Walt’s body.

The helpless, gorgeous flush that stole over him, that smooth skin a window to his emotions. 

His mouth opening, kitten tongue.  Moaning, crying out under Walt’s hands.  Surrendering.  His.

Jesse.

***

Walt couldn’t do it.

***

Or rather…he _wouldn’t_ do it, not right now.   Not necessary yet.  After all, he had reassured Skyler last night -that should calm things down on the home front.  And he could manage himself, discipline himself not to steal away too often to see Jesse, not to spend every waking minute thinking about him.  Give his family the focus and attention they deserved.  Achieve a balance.

And Jesse…Jesse needed him.  Walt understood this, unfortunately, that he'd encouraged it.  Which raised the question…how _would_ Jesse react if Walt cut things off?  The situation was volatile enough without adding in a bereft, heartbroken partner.  And Jesse _would_ be heartbroken, Walt was convinced of that now.  What would happen then?

For their business, he needed Jesse functional.

No. Not the right time. 

Let Jesse and he get a routine going with their new buyer first.  Settle that in.  Establish a production schedule for their new product.  And then, maybe, he and Jesse could talk about ending this.  Rationally.  It would be difficult.  But realistically, what was the alternative? 

_(Stay with him forever)_

Walt wouldn't hold Jesse to his promise of staying with him until the end came.  He wouldn't put the kid through the same ordeal he’d had with his aunt.  Jesse deserved better.

But in the meantime…control was called for.  Management of the situation for both himself and Jesse.  Management of _Jesse,_ for both their sakes.

Walt would approach things differently.  He had fooled himself before, thinking he could treat Jesse like a plaything (even though the kid was _such_ a superb one).  No.  He cared about Jesse.  He’d told the kid as much.

And what’s more, Jesse _should_ have someone who cared about him.  Looked out for him.  Challenged his abilities (which were impressive actually, a welcome surprise).  Who took him as he came, but also wasn’t afraid to whip him into shape occasionally (okay, and literally).

Jesse should know Walt cared.  Walt could be honest about that, at least.

Hopefully, knowing that, Jesse would accept Walt’s limitations.  Understand they were due to his circumstances.  Understand that his wishes were otherwise.

Accept his place in Walt’s life.

Accept his place.

_(Mine)_

_***_

Jesse and he had a ways to go before they were done with each other.  The meth business aside, there was another business to be dealt with here _(breaking)_ , an older business, buried deep in the dark, cold earth.

They had business to accomplish with each other it seemed, and it had started.  They must allow it to conclude.

Jesse was precious to him for a reason.

***

Walt didn't leave. 

He grasped a corner of the quilt and pulled it gently, smoothing the rumpled fabric over Jesse’s sleeping body.  The younger man sighed and shifted, but didn’t wake.

Walt carefully lay down and curled his body around his partner.  Put his lips in Jesse’s hair.   

Waited for him to wake up.

***

And now, Jesse was asleep again.  Burrowed into Walt’s body.   Sated, groggy, reeking of pot. 

Walt sighed.

But then he smiled, ruefully.  Tightened his arms around the kid, a warm bundle.

Jesse was…what he was. 

And that was okay, that was quite fine. 

Jesse was here to be loved.  Just as he was, perfect, in himself.  And eventually, he would see it.

Once their business was concluded, he would see it.


	23. Chapter 23

Jesse was still sleeping. 

Walt had snoozed off for awhile himself.  But now he was awake again, somewhat stiff and cramped.  Jesse lay on him heavily, breathing softly against his chest.  Walt shifted him around, trying for a more comfortable position.

“Mmph.”   Jesse rolled over onto his side, curving his backside into Walt.  He grabbed a pillow, buried his face in it.  Settled down into sleep again.

Walt rolled his eyes.  Well…this was what he’d come for.  But, really, it was past noon already.  Was the kid going to sleep all day?  He stroked a hand tentatively down Jesse’s back, warm under the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

Jesse didn’t stir.

Walt lay back, looked at the ceiling.  Closed his eyes, opened them again.  Well.  He was ready to get up.

He bent his head towards Jesse’s ear.  “Jesse…”

No response.

 _“_ Jesse… _Jesse…”_   Walt jostled him.

“Mmmph… _what!_ ”  Jesse’s voice was hoarse.  And annoyed.

“It’s time to get up.”

“…No it isn’t.  Let me sleep, Mr. White.  Jesus.”  Jesse put his face back into the pillow.

Walt considered him.   Then bent towards his ear again.  “Jesse…you can’t sleep all day.”

“Try me.”  Jesse’s voice was muffled.

“I had some plans for us today.  You have to get up.”

“Well maybe _I_ had plans too,” Jesse responded into the pillow.  “Like sleeping.”

Walt stroked his back.  “Jesse, it’s a beautiful day outside.  You’re wasting it.  We should be out there, enjoying it. 

Jesse remained turned away.  “You want to enjoy the great outdoors Mr. White, be my guest.  Don’t let me hold you up.”

Walt continued to stroke his back, running his hand over the knobs of Jesse’s spine.  He loved the feel of Jesse’s young body under the thin cotton.  “You spend too much time inside,” he said.

Jesse didn’t respond.

Walt jostled him again, gently.

Jesse finally turned his head.  Walt was treated to the sight of one unfriendly blue eye.  “C’mon man, gimme me a break,” Jesse said in an irritated voice.   “And what are you _doing_ here anyway?  Don’t you have somebody else to bug?”

Walt took his hand away.  “I thought you wanted me here,” he retorted, stung.

Jesse turned himself over at that.  Regarded Walt.  Not too warmly.  “I thought I did too,” he said grumpily.   “Until you reminded me why I feel like _killing_ you half the time.”

Walt glared back at him.  But then his annoyance faded.  He grinned.  Laid himself down on top of Jesse, embracing him and putting his head on his partner’s abdomen.

Jesse shoved at his shoulders.  “Oof—Mr. White, you’re heavy!”

“I’m sure you can put up with it.”  Walt squeezed him.

Jesse pushed at him futilely.  “You are _so_ ann _oying_ …”

Walt spoke into his flat stomach.  “Yup.”  Lay there.

After a few more attempts to dislodge him, Jesse subsided.   Eventually laid a hand on Walt’s head, rasping his palm over Walt’s shaven scalp.  Walt closed his eyes.

The two of them were quiet. 

“What did you want to do today?”  Jesse asked after awhile.

“Go out for a drive.”  Walt responded.

“That’s it?”

“I wanted to just…be out in the desert,” Walt explained.  “Enjoy the scenery.  You know, whenever we’re out there we’re always cooking.  Cooped up in that hot RV.  It would be nice to just…be out there, for once.”

Jesse yawned.  “Mmm…I dunno.   Sounds like work.  I don’t feel like driving.”

Walt rolled his eyes.  “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll drive.”

“But that means I have to go in your car.”  Jesse said.

“I’m sure you’ll survive the embarrassment,” Walt replied dryly.

“Not sure about that,” Jesse said.  “To be honest, I wonder how _you_ do.”

“Funny,” Walt responded.  “So what do you say?”

Jesse sighed.  “I dunno.”

Walt sat up.  Looked down at the younger man.  “Come on Jesse,” he said softly.  “It’ll be nice.”

Jesse gazed back at him thoughtfully.  

“Okay,” he said finally.  “But let’s eat first.  I’m hungry.”

Walt nodded.  “Sure.  You want me to make you something?”

Jesse brightened.  “Yeah.”

“What would you like?”  Walt was smiling at him.

“Maybe like…eggs?”

“Okay.  How about an omelette?”

“Sure… Can you put cheese in it?”

“Okay.”

“Any may be like, bacon?  Inside?”

“…Okay.”

“And could we have like, fried potatoes?”

Walt sighed.  “Fine.”

“And toast.”

“Alright, fine.  I’d better get started.”  Walt got up.  “I’m putting a pot of coffee on for you as well.  Want me to bring a cup up?”

Jesse was smiling at him.  “Yeah, that’d be great.  Thanks.”

“Sure.”  Walt gazed down at him for a moment.  Then gestured to the waterpipe and the partially emptied bag of dried marijuana leaves.  “Can you put that crap out of sight?  I don’t want to see it.”

Jesse looked somewhat embarrassed.  Said, “If I’d known you were showing up first thing in the morning I wouldn’t have smoked any.”

“Just don’t do any more today, okay?”  Walt replied.  “I want you sharp for the meet tomorrow.”

“…Are you expecting trouble?”  Jesse asked after a moment.

Walt shrugged.  “No, but…well, you and I both know what we’re dealing with.”

Jesse’s expression tightened.  “Uh huh.  Unfortunately.”

“Yeah.”  Walt brushed a hand over Jesse’s hair.  “Okay, coffee and breakfast coming up.”  He turned to go.

Jesse stared at his former teacher’s bare butt.  “Where’re your clothes?”

“Other room.  I didn’t want them smelling like drugs.”  Mr. White left.

Jesse settled back comfortably under the covers.  Then stopped, sighed.  Sat up, leaned over and swept the baggie of weed and lighter into the nightstand drawer and shoved the bong under the bed.   Sank back into the warm nest of quilt.

Mr. White re-entered the room, fully dressed now, a mug of steaming coffee in his hands.  “You take it black, right?”

“Yeah.”  Jesse sat back up, put his hands out to receive the coffee.  Mr. White handed it carefully to him.

“Thanks.”

Mr. White nodded.  “I’ll call you when the food is ready.”  He looked at Jesse for a moment, then kissed him on the brow.

“Okay.”  Jesse blinked up at him, surprised. 

Mr. White was smiling at him.  Then his eyes narrowed.  “And take a shower before you come down.   You reek.”

Jesse sipped his coffee.

Mr. White stood over the bed, his head slightly tilted to one side.  “Jesse?”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you…”

Mr. White’s hands were on his hips.  “Acknowledgement is always good.”

Jesse rolled his eyes.  “I acknowledge.”

Mr. White nodded.  “Good.”  Pointed a finger at him.  “Shower.”  He turned and left.

Jesse stared after him, irritated all over again.  He sipped the hot liquid slowly, _not_ too interested in showering thank you very much…

Then heard Mr. White clattering about in his kitchen.  The man was whistling, cheerfully.

Jesse finished his coffee and made his way to the bathroom.

***

Walt called up.  “Jesse, breakfast’s ready!”  After a moment, heard Jesse’s light step on the stairs.

Jesse entered the dining room, hair still damp, dressed in a fresh cotton t-shirt, pair of grey sweat pants and white cotton athletic socks.   He observed the dining room table, cleared of clutter and newly wiped clean.  Walt entered the room from the kitchen, a glass of milk in one hand and glass of orange juice in the other. 

The dining room was bright and breezy.  Walt had opened all the curtains and every window in the room.  Fresh air and light were streaming in. 

Jesse shivered.  He wrapped his arms around himself.  “It’s kind of chilly in here.”

Walt set the glasses on the table and picked up a sweatshirt that was laid neatly over one of the dining room chairs.  Handed it to Jesse without comment.

Jesse shrugged the sweatshirt over his head and sat down.  Picked up the glass of orange juice and drained it.  “Mmm.  Is there any more?”

Walt was walking back to the kitchen.  “In the fridge.  I’ll bring it in.  Want more coffee?”

“Sure.”

Walt re-entered the room holding a cardboard carton of orange juice and a mug of coffee.    Poured more juice into Jesse’s glass.  “Here.”

“Thanks.”  Jesse drank it eagerly.

Walt left and returned balancing two plates and a knife and fork, rolled in a cloth napkin.  He put the plates down in front of Jesse.  A perfectly folded omelette was on one plate and a stack of buttered toast on the other.  He handed Jesse the rolled up knife and fork. 

Jesse observed the napkin.  “Where’d you find that?”

“Linen drawer.  Didn’t know you had them?”

“Forgot.”  Jesse started in on the omelette.   As promised, it was stuffed with cheese and crisp pieces of bacon.  Fried potatoes were heaped around it.   

After a few moments of total focus on his food, Jesse lifted his eyes.  Regarded his partner, seated across the table from him.  “Aren’t you having any?” Jesse asked.

“I ate before I came over.” Walt replied.

Jesse smiled at him.  “Mr. White, this is awesome.  Thanks for making this.”

Walt smiled back.  “You’re welcome.   You’re helping me clean up, though.”

“Sure,” Jesse said.  After a moment, asked, “Where’d you learn to cook?”

“I learned pretty early,” Walt said.  “When I was younger than you actually.  There was a period where my mother wasn’t well, and I started cooking for the two of us.”

“Was it just the two of you growing up?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you cook for your family?” Jesse asked.

“No actually, funny enough,” Walt replied.  “Not often.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure,” Walt said.  Continued.  “Skyler is a really good cook –enjoys it, you know.   And she ended up kind of dividing who was going to do what around the house… you know, I change lightbulbs, do laundry, she cooks, shops.  So I guess we all just…forgot that I could cook too.”

Jesse nodded.  Asked, “Do you still see your mom?”

“Not much,” Walt said.  “She’s not in Albuquerque.“

“Do you guys get along?” Jesse asked.

“Not really,” Walt answered.  “She can be kind of miserable to be around.”

Jesse nodded again.  “Oh so _that’s_ where that comes from.”  He resumed eating.

Walt smiled slightly at him.  “Are you implying I can be miserable to be around?”

Jesse snorted.  “Who said anything about _implying?”_

“Very funny,” Walt said.

Jesse looked up at him.  “You’ve been cooking a lot here. “

“Yeah.” 

“How come?”

“Well aside from the fact that I’ve been spending time here and like to eat food that doesn’t come from a vacuum sealed pouch,” Walt replied, “I want to see you get some proper nutrition.  And on that note, please drink your milk.”

Jesse made a face.  “Milk on top of orange juice is gross.”

“I’m sure you can choke it down,” Walt said.  “I want you to get some calcium.  Drink.”  He pointed to the glass of milk.

Jesse rolled his eyes, picked up the glass of milk and drank.  “You sound like my mom.”

“I’m sure I do.”

Jesse gazed at him thoughtfully.  “Mr. White, why _are_ you here, really?”

Walt raised his eyebrows.  “You mean, aside from the incredible sex?”

Jesse frowned.  “Fuck off.  I’m asking seriously,” he said.

“You think I wasn’t serious?” Walt replied, smiling.

Jesse looked hurt.   He stopped eating, stared at Walt.

Walt said contritely, “I’m sorry Jesse, I shouldn’t have joked like that.”  Paused.  “I’m here because…because there’s no place else I’d rather be.”

“…You mean that?”  Jesse asked, after a moment.

“Yes.”  Walt replied simply. 

Jesse didn’t answer.  He looked down.

Walt smiled at him pensively.  Then got up, said, “I’m going to make us some sandwiches to take for the road.  Come help me when you’re finished.”

“Okay,” Jesse answered quietly.

Walt left.

Jesse continued eating.  This omelette really _was_ awesome.  Next time, he’d ask Mr. White to put mushrooms in too.  And maybe some green pepper.

***

They were an hour out of Albuquerque, turning off the 40 onto the reservation about 30 minutes ago and driving along an empty dirt road that devolved into a narrow, sandy path. 

Walt stopped in a shallow gully, dotted with mature desert pines and carpeted with tufts of silky grey-green grass.   He parked his car on an area of flat packed sand, at the foot of a low hill of red rock.  The sky overhead was a deep blue, lightly tracked with clouds.  A faint wind was blowing, sighing through the branches of the tall pines.

Jesse got out of the car, yawned, stretched.  Started ambling around.

Walt opened the hatchback’s trunk and pulled out a cooler containing food, water and beer and a large, faded old quilt that he and Skyler used as a picnic blanket.  He walked over to a nearby grove of pines and carefully laid the quilt down in a flat, shady hollow of sand.

Walt sat down on the quilt, opened the cooler and took out a bottle of beer, drank.  Watched Jesse.  The kid was threading his way through the dry tufts of grass, head bent to observe the detail of the desert foliage, the flowers sprinkled around in bright dots of colour.  He had picked up a stick, whipped it idly about.  Walt smiled.  He leaned back on his elbows, absorbing the austere beauty of this isolated, peaceful place.

Jesse straightened, turned around, eyes scanning for Walt.  He spotted him, raised a hand.  Walt waved back casually.  Jesse began making his way over.   He stood above Walt as he reclined on the quilt, looking down at his partner.

Walt gazed up at him.  “Want a beer?”

“Sure.”  Jesse flopped down, helped himself to a beer in the cooler.  Sat beside Walt with his elbows resting on his knees, taking in their tranquil surroundings.

“Nice out here.”  Walt said.

“Yeah.”

They were quiet. 

Walt regarded him.  Jesse’s face was calm, his blue eyes meditative, somewhat remote.  His body was relaxed, settled into itself.

Walt reached out, stroked a hand lightly along the curve of Jesse’s spine.  Jesse turned, glanced back briefly.  Walt smiled at him then lay back, looking up at the blue sky. 

Watched the clouds for awhile, faraway ribbons of white.   Closed his eyes.

***

Woke from a light doze, feeling his glasses being plucked off his face.

“Don’t lose those,” Walt muttered.  Coughed.

“Don’t worry.”   Jesse placed the glasses carefully on a corner of the quilt.  Then returned his attention to his partner.

Walt felt light fingers stroking his cheek.  He opened his eyes. 

Jesse was looking at Walt thoughtfully.  He stroked the tips of his fingers along Walt’s cheek again, then ran them along Walt’s lips.

“What’re you doing?” Walt asked, still drowsy.

Jesse smiled slightly at him.  Didn’t answer.

Leaned forward, kissed Walt softly on the mouth.  Sat back, watching him.

“Mmm.”  Walt put a hand on Jesse’s side.  “Do that again.”

Jesse kissed Walt again, more lingeringly this time.  His lips were firm and warm.  He slipped his tongue into Walt’s mouth. 

Walt raised his chin.  “More,” he whispered.

Jesse kissed him again.  Then moved his mouth to Walt’s eyelids, dropping a gentle kiss on each of them.  Kissed his cheek.  Kissed Walt’s mouth again then moved his lips to Walt’s throat.  Walt felt Jesse’s warm wet tongue brush his skin. “Jesse,” he said hoarsely.

Jesse was moving himself around.  Then the kid straddled him, the hard bulge of his cock pushed firmly into Walt’s groin.  A sharp dart of pleasure ran through Walt's body at the contact.  He looked up at his partner.

Jesse was observing him, speculatively.  Walt blinked. 

“What is it?” he asked.

Jesse didn’t answer.  

Walt was suddenly aware of his own appearance.  An unremarkable fifty year old man, the lines of his strained, dissatisfied life carved deeply into his face.  Bald from chemo.  Not in bad shape sure, but no athlete, anymore.  Nothing in the way of looks compared to Jesse.  Although to be fair, not many people were.

He was so used to the kid’s beauty attracting him, drawing him in.  But when Jesse looked at him like this, with these remote, considering blue eyes, his beauty became a cold thing, chilling. 

“What are you looking at?” Walt asked Jesse, quietly.

At his words, Jesse's expression changed, its remoteness fading away. He grinned, his white teeth glinting.  Answered, eyes deliberately on Walt, “I have _no_ idea.”

Walt felt his own lips twitch in response.   “Keep going,” he said.  “What are you waiting for?”

Jesse didn’t say anything more.  Leaned over Walt and started kissing him again.

Walt's breath quickened.  Jesse surrounding him, overcoming his senses.  It was like an angel descending, this beautiful being, hovering over him. 

Jesse was pressing himself into Walt’s body, his weight bearing down on Walt’s cock.  Walt made an involuntary sound, halfway between discomfort and pleasure.  “I hope you know where you’re going with this,” he muttered.  Looked up.

Jesse was grinning at him again.  “Where _am_ I going with this, Mr. White?”  He kissed Walt's mouth gently, brushing his lips back and forth.  

Leaned into him.

Walt abruptly had enough.  “You little tease," he said. "You want to be fucked after all.  Is that it?”  Started to sit up.

Jesse placed a hand in the middle of Walt’s chest, pushed him down.  “No,” he replied. 

Walt lay back, staring at him.  “No,” Jesse repeated softly.  He rose onto his hands and knees, levering himself down over Walt’s body.  Dropped a kiss on Walt’s abdomen.  Then lower. Nuzzled his face into Walt’s groin, opened his mouth, breathed hotly onto Walt’s cock.  Bit him lightly through his pants.

Walt's hips moved involuntarily.  His hand went to the back of Jesse’s head, pushing him down.  Jesse let Walt push his face against his cock but then lay there passively. 

Walt grit his teeth.  He was hard, rigid, his cock pressed against Jesse’s smooth cheek.  He grasped a handful of Jesse’s hair, lifting up his head.  “What…do you _want?”_ he bit out. 

Jesse met his gaze.  A faint, considering smile had returned to his face.  Walt suddenly wanted to hit him, to strike that expression down.  He looked away, appalled by this violent feeling, rising so unexpectedly. 

Jesse said, "Do still I owe you?"

"Owe me what?" Walt asked shortly, glancing back at him.

Jesse bent his head, placed a soft kiss on Walt's cock, looked up. "This," he replied in a conversational tone.  "You said I owed you this.  Earlier today."

"Yes," Walt snapped.  "You still owe me.  On your knees you owe me.  And believe me, I'm going to collect."

"No," said Jesse, again.  

Walt stared at him.

"You're not going to collect like that from me," Jesse said.  

"What makes you think I won't?" Walt asked.  Then gasped.

Jesse's face was buried against his rigid cock, nuzzling him.  "Because you asked me what I want," Jesse replied, his voice muffled.

"Jesse..." Walt closed his eyes.  "This little conversation is going to end with me putting you over my knee and spanking you hard.  Do you remember _that_ from earlier today?" 

"Sure," Jesse replied, “But I think you'll give me what I want, first.  That's important to you, isn't it?  Giving me what I want?"  Jesse nibbled lightly at Walt's cock, which was straining against his pants.  Walt felt like all the blood in his body had pooled under the kid's mouth.  He grabbed Jesse by the hair again, unthinking.  Jesse immediately went still.

Walt slowly released his hair.  "Okay...you little brat...what _do_ you want?   _Tell me_ , so we can finish this."

Jesse looked up.  "I want you to... _ask me_ ," he said softly, holding Walt's gaze.  "Ask me...nicely.”  He smiled.

Walt stared at him.  He wasn't feeling especially nice.  “Fine. Okay…Jesse…finish what you started.   _Suck my cock.  Please_.”

Jesse looked disappointed.  He sat back.  Brushed his fingers against Walt's groin.

“That’s not specific enough,” he replied.  “Break it down for me.  And try harder on the nice part.”

"Provoking me is risky," Walt told him.  "For _you_."

Jesse smiled back serenely.  "You're only going to get this one way," he replied.

Walt drew a breath.  Paused.  Then said, slowly.  “Jesse…please…undo my pants.”

Jesse’s hand went to waistband of Walt’s pants.  Still looking at Walt, he slowly undid the metal button, unzipped the fly.  Stared at Walt, waiting.  Raised his eyebrows, pointedly.

Walt took the point.  “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome.” Jesse answered.  Sat there.

Walt started to roll his eyes, then stopped.  Looked at his partner more closely.  Jesse wasn't smiling anymore.

“Jesse…" he said quietly. "Please pull my pants down.  And my shorts.”

Jesse leaned forward, grasped the waistband of Walt’s pants with both hands.  “Raise your butt, Mr. White,” he said.

Walt obliged him.  Jesse tugged his pants and shorts down, exposing him.  Walt closed his eyes, abruptly self conscious.  His rigid thick shaft, dark red, hungrily pointing up under Jesse’s gaze. 

Walt opened his eyes.  Jesse was sitting there. 

“Jesse…please put my cock in your mouth,” Walt said, his voice strained.  “Close your mouth over it.”

Jesse looked at him.  There was a shadow in his gaze that Walt couldn't quite discern. But then it was gone. He bent over gracefully, his hot mouth closing tightly over the tip of Walt’s cock, his tongue cupping the base of the glans.   Held himself motionless, otherwise.  Walt thrust against his mouth, in spite of himself.  Felt Jesse start to draw back.

“—No!  Please…Jesse…move your mouth up and down,” Walt said hoarsely.  “Use your tongue.  Please…”

He felt Jesse slowly comply.  His mouth and lips moved along Walt’s shaft, enclosing him like a glove.  His tongue curled then jabbed, running up and down Walt’s sensitive flesh, its tip pressing down like a moist finger.  Walt's breath was catching in his throat.  “Keep...please keep going…Jesse…” he whispered.

Jesse started to move faster, his lips and tongue working.  Walt was straining to keep his hands away from him, holding them rigidly at his sides.  “Jesse,” he said, “Please…suck on me.  Draw me in.”

He felt the kid’s immediate, exquisite response, the muscles of Jesse’s mouth and tongue closing in on him yet more tightly, sucking on him deliciously.  Walt was moving against his mouth, helplessly, groaning. 

“ _Jesse…_ ” he was begging now.  “Don’t stop.  Please...faster…Pull me in deeper…”

Jesse responded, pulling him in deep, enveloping Walt into his hot, smooth mouth.  Jesse’s tongue was working on him.  Walt felt a tight, pounding pleasure start to surge through his body, unbearable.

“Jesse…I’m coming,” Walt gasped out.  “Please stay with me…swallow for me _…_ ”  Jesse's head was pressed against him.  Walt felt the pleasure rise within him to an intolerable pitch, vibrating.  He released, spilling into Jesse’s mouth, crying out, his hands clasping Jesse’s shoulders.  The kid was swallowing, his throat working.  Walt felt him gag slightly.

Walt finally subsided, his breath slowing.  Jesse released his cock and then lay down his head, resting his face against Walt’s belly.

Walt looked at the sky, a distant, faraway blue.  He felt the warm weight of Jesse’s head.  Stroked him.  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“You’re welcome, Mr. White.”  Jesse voice was muffled against him.

Walt smiled.  Then pushed Jesse away gently.  “Here.  Let me do myself up.”  Re-fastened his pants.  Jesse was sitting up again, looking at Walt silently.  Walt sat up also, arms reaching out for him.

“Come here.”  He embraced Jesse, drawing the young man down to lie beside him on the quilt.  Put his lips in Jesse’s hair.

"Are we paid up?" Jesse asked.

Walt was kissing him, nuzzling him.  He grinned at this.  The kid sounded concerned.  "For talent like that we're paid up," he replied.  He stroked Jesse's face, his body.  Jesse put his arms around him.

Walt halted momentarily, savouring his partner's embrace. Then continued to kiss Jesse's forehead, his eyelids, his nose.  Jesse had turned his face up, his eyes sweetly closed, receiving the kisses like rain.  “I’m never letting you go,” Walt whispered.  “You’re staying with me forever.”

Jesse opened his eyes.  “How would that work, exactly?” he asked.

Walt paused. 

Then answered, lightly.  “I’m going to keep you locked away.  In a glass case, to admire you.  I’ll take you out to play.  And then I’ll put you back.”

Jesse snorted. “Sounds like great fun, for me,” he said.  Looked at Walt.

Walt kissed his eyelids closed again.  “Oh you will love it,” he murmured to his partner.  “You will be my prize, my prized possession, and you will love it.”

“Tell me what you'll do.”  Jesse answered, after a moment.

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me what you'll do to me,” Jesse said.  “When you take me out of the glass case.”  Walt caught a note of sadness in his voice.  He put his lips on Jesse’s temple, the silky skin.

Felt the warm weight of Jesse’s body lying against him, soft blonde hair brushing his face.  Heard the light breeze, whispering through the pines.  Walt looked up at the gently swaying branches, a shady nest enclosing them, the desert, blazing brightly beyond.

“Okay,” he said eventually.  “Let’s see…”

Arranged Jesse more comfortably against his side.

“Let me tell you about the time I dressed you up…”


	24. Chapter 24

“Mr. White, I’m not sure I want to hear about that,” Jesse said.  “Dressing up in some kinky outfit isn’t really my thing.”

“Well, it’s not actually up to you,” Walt replied.  “However, I think you’ll enjoy it more than you’re expecting to.”

“…Just don’t get…too…out there…okay?”

“I’m not making any promises.  Shall I begin?”

"Yeah."

Jesse is outfitted with some new gear and travels to a mysterious destination

Jesse sprawled with lazy luxury in the wide low bed at the desert house.  The morning sun shone brightly through the large windows.  Mr. White was in the shower, just back from his run.  Skye was up and about –he’d heard her dressing and showering earlier.  Jesse pleasurably contemplated another laid back day ahead of him.  He’d been back in New Mexico for over a week now, with another eight days to go before flying out to Munich again. 

_(“Munich?”_

_“Oh yes…you’re in charge of setting up our latest facility there—you’ve been travelling a lot this year, Munich and Shanghai.”_

_"Wow…go on.”)_

It was great to have a break from the hectic pace of work.  Although Holly was fairly demanding, her energy level through the roof as always (and overwhelmingly focused on Jesse, whenever he was home).   But that was a nice kind of demanding.

_(“How old is she now?”_

_“I would put her at…oh…six years, maybe.”_

_“Okay, so that would mean we’d all been together for, what, four years?”_

_“Sounds about right.”)_

Jesse rolled over onto his side, running an exploratory hand down his back and bottom.  He was recovered from the whipping Mr. White had given him the day after he’d returned home, the marks mostly gone. 

Except for those reminders on his body, it was surprising how easily Mr. White and he snapped back to normalcy after one of their sessions.  Take the last time, for example.

Finished with their shower, Jesse had walked haltingly back to the bed and lain face down.  Mr. White followed shortly and gently rubbed a cooling lotion into his abraded skin.  Afterwards, he’d dressed Jesse carefully in a soft pair of sweats and lain down beside him.  Both of them fell asleep.   When Jesse woke up, hours later, the sun was low in the sky.  He heard Mr. White moving about the room.  Then his partner was pulling down his sweatpants.   “Jesse, let me put this on you.”  An icy pad, laid carefully against his bottom.  Jesse hissed softly. 

“Skyler and Holly will be back soon.  Are you okay to get up?”

Jesse moved experimentally.  “Yeah.”

“Good.  I’ll ice you again before bed.  That good for now?”

“Yes Mr. White.”

“Sure.  But remember, I’m Walt when Skyler gets back.  No need to rile her up.”

“She’ll know anyway.”

“I know.  But you know she sticks with our agreement just as long as we do.  In fact, you might as well start now.”

“Okay… _Walt_.”

Mr. White laughed softly.  “Just don’t get cheeky.  Remember who you’re really talking to, and we’ll be fine.” 

When Skye saw the marks on him later, she sighed but didn’t say anything.  Neither did Jesse.  He put his arms around her reassuringly.

Mr. White had entered the room. Jesse noticed the change in him immediately.

The older man walked over to the bed and stood over Jesse, looking down at him silently.  Jesse felt a shiver of apprehension at his partner’s level gaze.

“What is it?”

“We’re taking a trip today,” Mr. White said softly.  “Just you and me.  I booked us a flight into L.A.  The plane leaves at eleven.  You’ll need to get up.”

Jesse sat up.  “L.A.?  Why?”

Mr. White smiled.  “I want to correct a certain…laxity I’m sensing… before it progresses too far.  Not that I’m blaming you, you understand.  You and I are both prone to it, because of our circumstances, having the family around so much and all.  And the fact that we’ve been away from each other more than usual this year.  You’ve had quite a bit of freedom recently, which I understand you’ve been enjoying.”

“I wasn’t _hiding_ anything,” Jesse said defensively. “Both you and Skye knew about Hanne…”

_(“Who’s Hanne?”_

_“Your German girlfriend.  I decided to let you have a girl your own age, as long as it didn’t interfere with our arrangement.  She’s beautiful too, like you, blonde, blue eyed…”_

_“Gee thanks…just so you know, brunettes are more my type.”_

_“…I’ll keep that in mind.”)_

“I wasn’t saying you were hiding anything.  I was saying that I feel I should correct a certain…laxity.  For both of us.   I can see that you periodically require more of a reminder than I’m able to give you, when we’re working it in around everything else.  I’ve taken steps to address that.”

Jesse swallowed.   “What are we doing?”

Mr. White smiled again.  “You’ll see.  In the meantime, if you could please get up and take a shower.  And shave please.”

Jesse groaned.  “Oh man…right _now?_ ”

Mr. White looked at him.  “There’s that laxity I was referring to.  Yes, now.  And come back in here when you’re done.  Don’t get dressed.”

Jesse glared at him, then got up.  Walked grouchily to the bathroom, resisting the urge to slam the door.

***

Finished with his shower…and _shave_ …a naked Jesse re-entered the bedroom.  He stopped, staring at Mr. White, who was bent over an open suitcase on the bed, busily packing.  For both of them. 

“Um…Mr. White, I can pack my own clothes, thanks.”

“No, it’s better I do it for this trip.”  Mr. White said, absently.

“O _kay_ …can you enlighten me on what we’re doing, exactly?”  Jesse asked.

Mr. White straightened up, gazed at him, eyes running over his body.  Jesse was abruptly self conscious, which was _ridiculous_ , given how often he had been naked in front of his partner.  Nonetheless, he felt a blush rising on his skin.  Saw Mr. White noticing.  Glared at him.

Walt grinned back.  “Stay right where you are.”  He walked over to the bureau drawers and withdrew some items, laying them out -a tube of lubricant, a soft cloth zipper case and a hard, black case.  He snapped open the black case and withdrew a black rubber dildo, with four sturdy black cloth elastic straps attached, hard black rubber buckles on their ends.  Opened the tube of lubricant and squeezed it over the dildo, coating its surface.

Jesse was rooted to the floor, staring. 

Walt turned to him, the dildo in his hands.  “Bend over the bed, Jesse, and spread your legs,” he said softly.

“Mr. White, no.”

“Do it Jesse.  Don’t argue with me.”

“Please Mr. White, no.”

Walt sighed.  “Jesse, if you argue with me, I’m coating this with more than lubricant.  Something peppery maybe.   This is going in you one way or another.  The level of discomfort is up to you.  Now turn around please.  And bend over.”

Jesse stared at him, upset.   Then abruptly turned around and bent over the bed, resting on his hands.  Spread his legs.  Walt patted his bottom.  “That’s it.”  Inserted the dildo carefully into Jesse’s anus, pushing it in firmly.   Wrapped the straps around Jesse’s waist and between his legs, tightening and buckling them snugly.  “Stand up.”  Jesse straightened.   “Moving around at all?”  Walt asked him.

“No,” Jesse said sarcastically.  “You really shoved it in there.”

“Good,” Walt responded calmly.   “Now sit down on the bed.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to make sure you can sit with that in you.”

_“Why?”_

“Because you’re going to be wearing it for the next two days.  You can take it out when you need to use the bathroom or as instructed, for sex, but otherwise it stays in.  You’ll be responsible for keeping it clean.  Now sit down.”

“Mr. White, _no._   Why are you doing this?”

Walt lost patience.  “Jesse, the fact that you’re even asking me is your answer.  Now _sit!_ ”

Jesse sat on the bed.  An expression of discomfort crossed his face.  He was hard though, Walt noticed, his cock stiffly upright.  Asked, “How does that feel?”

“Fantastic.”  Jesse snapped.

“Good.”  Walt said blithely.  “It’s supposed to be quite wearable.  That’s what the salesperson told me, anyway.”

“Jesus.”  Jesse muttered.

Walt was staring at his erect cock.  “We can’t have that.”

“What?”

Walt knelt before him on the bed and took Jesse’s cock into his mouth.  He began quickly and expertly sucking on it.  “Mr. _White,_ ” Jesse gasped.  His hands went involuntarily to his partner’s head.  Without stopping, Walt reached up one hand and pushed him to lie down.  Continued his work.  Eventually Jesse started moaning and bucking into his mouth.  Came strongly.  Walt swallowed his come neatly and stood up.  “Stay there.”  He went into the bathroom.  Came back out, a wet towel in his hand.  Placed it on Jesse’s cock, wiping him clean.  The towel was icy cold.  “Shit!” Jesse said.  “That’s fucking freezing, Mr. White!” 

“Stand up,” Walt said briefly.  Jesse rose from the bed, staring at him.  Walt slapped him hard across the mouth. 

“Ow!” 

“You swear again and I’m marching you into the dungeon and giving you twenty strokes right now.  I can see our little trip is even more timely than I thought.”

Jesse opened his mouth, closed it.  Walt gave him another look, then turned back to the bureau, picked up the cloth case.  Unzipped it.  He removed a clear plastic loop, with holes punched in both ends.  Inserted white plastic screws into the holes.   Jesse was staring at the loop with growing dread.  “What—“

“Shush.”   Walt knelt before the younger man.  Eyed his groin consideringly.  “This should fit,” he said.  “I was very precise with your measurements.”  He fitted the plastic loop carefully around the base of Jesse’s balls.  Does it pinch?”

“No, but—“

“Good.  Now stay still while I do the rest of this.  And I mean it about that whipping," Walt said.  "If I hear any more out of you, it’s happening.” 

With that threat, Walt picked up a container of thick, rigid clear plastic.  It was moulded in the shape of a penis, complete with a glans at the end, an open slot at its tip and slots along the sides.  There was a thick ring of plastic at its base with ridges and holes for the screws.   Walt slipped the mould over Jesse’s cock and snapped it into place firmly, the ring at its base snugly connecting with the loop around Jesse’s balls, which now hung heavily, bulging like they’d been gathered in a fist.  His cock was enclosed in the clear plastic case, which curved downwards in the natural shape of a non-erect penis. 

Walt pulled on the whole arrangement experimentally.  It didn’t budge.   “That’s not going anywhere,” he said.  Tapped a finger against the plastic case.  “It’s a chastity device,” he remarked.  “Designed for men.  Fascinating, isn’t it, what people come up with?”

Jesse stared down at himself, appalled.   “Mr. White, you can’t be serious,” he whispered.

Walt straightened, looked at him.  “I’m very serious,” he said.  Turned back to the case, picked up a small, stainless steel padlock.  There was a latch on the plastic case, connecting it to the loop that was fitted around Jesse's balls.  Walt slipped the padlock through the latch and snapped it shut.  He picked up a small key and held it in front of Jesse’s eyes.  “This isn’t coming off until I take it off you,” he said.  Slipped the padlock key onto his key ring.

Jesse's eyes were glistening.  He swallowed.  “When’s that going to be?”  he asked carefully. 

Walt smiled at him.  “For the next two days, for now,” he replied.  “We’re going to try it out, while you’re with me.  It’s supposed to be very easy to manage  –you can urinate, wash with it, it’s easy to clean.  And it’s very discreet –undetectable under clothing, I’m given to understand.  I bought you some special briefs as well.  Firm fit.  Keeps the whole thing contained neatly.  We’ll put them on in a moment.

“What do you mean… _for now_?”  Jesse asked.

“You’re going to be wearing this when you go back to Munich,” Walt said quietly.  “I’ll be flying out ten days after you, you may recollect.  I’ll take it off you then.”

Jesse gasped, “Mr. White, no!  No way!  You can’t expect me to wear this for ten days!  And what if there’s an emergency?  What if I end up in the hospital?”

“If there’s an emergency, you call me.  We’ll discuss next steps.  If you end up in a hospital, God forbid, I’m sure the doctors will take it off you.  They’re German, they’ve probably seen these before.  It was made there, after all.”

“Great, thanks,” Jesse said bitterly.  “I see you’ve really thought this through.  And what about Hanne?  What am I supposed to tell her?”

“Well, that’s up to you,” Walt said quietly.  “If you’re prepared to explain the situation to your little friend, I’ll Fedex her the key.  She can unlock you, with my permission.   But,” his eyes met Jesse’s, “if you take this off _without_ my permission, don’t bother coming home.  You can stay in Germany, find yourself a job there, if you wish.”  

Walt turned back to the container case.  Removed an embossed plastic tab, held it up in front of Jesse.  “By the way,” he remarked, as if he hadn't just said those terrible words, “See this?  It’s the same as the padlock, except that to take it off, you have to cut it.  I’ll be attaching this to the chastity device when you leave.  If you cut it, I’ll know.  So you can't play any games with the lock.” 

Jesse stared at him.  “You didn’t mean that,” he whispered.  “What you said.”

Walt returned his gazed levelly.  “I did,” he replied. 

“But Mr. White _, why?_   Why are you doing this?”

“I said to you earlier, you had my permission to play with this,” Walt tapped Jesse cock’s again, under the plastic case.  “But what you _need_ to remember, is that my permission can be revoked at any time.”

“Mr. White, you’re not being fair!”

“I’m being completely fair.  If that girl is important enough to you to let her in on the rest of your life, that’s your choice.  We’ll work it out.  If she isn’t, than this-“ again, tapping the case, “this remains within the realm of _m_ _y_ discretion.  A reminder of who you really belong to.  It will be a good lesson for you.”

Jesse closed his eyes.  “I hate you,” he whispered.

Walt grinned.  “Sure you do,” he said.  “In any event, it won’t be such a sacrifice not to fuck your girlfriend for a few days after you get back.  I’m going to be whipping you again the day before you leave, remember?  You’re not going to want to fuck her until the marks heal.  Unless you’re prepared to explain _those._ ”

Jesse was looking down at himself.  Walt noticed his lips trembling slightly.  He kissed Jesse’s cheek.  “It will be fine, you’ll see,” he said gently.   “Now let’s put on those briefs.”  He picked them out of a stack of Jesse’s clothes.  “Here.”

Jesse pulled the briefs up, wordlessly.  They were of thick, silky black spandex lined inside with a thin cottony fabric, a supportive cup moulded into the front.  They fit snugly around Jesse’s hips, bottom and groin, containing the plastic cock case firmly.  Walt looked at them critically.  “Yup, they cover it.” he said.  “You can’t tell.”  He inserted his fingers into the front flap of the briefs, found the hard plastic case containing Jesse's cock, pulled it free of the fabric.  “You should be able to pee, no problem,” he said.  “I’m expecting you to be careful to keep this clean and dry.  Talcum powder should help.  I’ve packed some.  If you get careless, you'll be punished.  Please keep that in mind.”  He re-settled Jesse’s cock into the spandex briefs.

“Are we done?” Jesse asked bitterly.  “Or do you have anything else you want to attach to me, to torture me with?”

Walt smiled.  “Nothing that we can get away with in public,” he said.  “Unless you fancy some discreet nipple clamps?”

Jesse winced.  “No thank you,” he replied.

“I didn’t think so,” Walt said.  “Now get dressed, we have to go.  Put on a suit, appropriate for L.A.”

“A _suit?_   Why?”

“Because where we’re going isn’t _casual…_ ”

***

Goodbyes had been said to Holly and Skyler.   Jesse and Mr. White were in Mr. White’s car, on their way to the airport.  Mr. White was driving.  Jesse sat silently beside him.  He was trying not to think about the dildo strapped into him, and the…chastity thing.  How was he going to get through the next two days?

Mr. White said quietly, “Jesse, I’m going to explain some rules now.  I’m revoking your freedom of speech and movement.   From now on, until I tell you otherwise, you’re not to speak unless you are spoken to, or unless I give you permission to speak.  You’re not to go anywhere or do anything unless I give you express permission.  That includes visiting the bathroom.   You're to keep your eyes to yourself.  Don't look at anyone unless you absolutely have to, to avoid attracting unwarranted attention.  And you are not to engage anyone in conversation.  Only speak if they ask you a direct question, and answer as briefly as possible without being rude.  And you are to keep your body as still as possible at all times.  No unnecessary movement.  Do you understand me?”

Jesse turned to stare at his partner.  Mr. White glanced at him.  “Face front,” he said mildly.  “I didn’t give you permission to turn your head.  And fold your hands in your lap.  Keep them folded from now on, whenever you’re sitting down, unless I tell you otherwise.  And acknowledge my words please.  Politely.”

Jesse’s lips were trembling again.  He turned to face front, folded his hands in his lap.  “Yes Mr. White,” he replied.  “I understand.”

Mr. White smiled.  “Very good,” he said.

They drove to the airport in silence.

***

A limo driver met them at the LAX airport.  He was holding up a sign saying “Hermann.”  Mr. White guided Jesse over to him without explanation.  They followed the driver towards the waiting vehicle.  Mr. White opened the limo’s door for Jesse, gestured for him to enter, got in beside him.  Did up Jesse’s seatbelt, then his own.  The limo drove away.

"Oh by the way,” Mr. White said casually.  “For the purpose of this trip, I’m using the name of William Hermann.  You don’t have to call me that.  When we're in front of other people, you may address me as ‘Sir.’  At the times that I allow you to speak.  Are we clear?”

“Yes Sir.” Jesse said quietly. 

Mr. White smiled at him.  Patted his knee.  “Good boy,” he said.

The limo entered a luxurious Beverly Hills neighbourhood.  They drove smoothly past large, lushly gardened estates behind high walls, catching glimpses of monstrous houses in a range of architectural styles.  Jesse glanced out the limo’s window, discreetly, trying not to move his head too much.  Mr. White sat silently beside him, laptop computer open, concentrating on some obscure looking chart, the same thing he’d been contemplating during their flight.

The limo turned into a drive, almost hidden by low hanging palms.  An iron gate opened.  They drove through, past manicured green slopes on either side.  Approached a sprawling, Italianate style mansion of pink stone with red tile roofs.  The limo pulled up in front of the mansion’s massive portico of heavy marble pillars.

The limo driver opened Mr. White's door.  Mr. White closed his laptop and packed it away.  He turned to Jesse.  “Stay where you are.”  Then he exited the limo, walked around it, and opened Jesse’s door.  Undid his seatbelt.  “You can get out now,” Mr. White said to him.  “Don’t gawk around.  Keep your eyes lowered.  The staff won’t speak to you.  They’ll expect you to walk a little behind me.  That’s appropriate here.”

Jesse got out of the limo.  He stared at Mr. White apprehensively.  Mr.  White smiled.  “Don’t worry,” he said.  “I’ll explain shortly.”

He turned and walked towards the tall, heavily carved mahogany front door, Jesse following behind.    The limo driver brought up the rear, carrying their bag.  The door opened.

A butler in a dark grey morning coat stood there.  “Good afternoon, Mr. Hermann.” 

“Good afternoon,” replied Mr. White.  He entered, Jesse following.  Jesse darted a glance at the butler.  The man wasn’t looking at him.  It was like Jesse was air.  The limo driver handed the butler their bag.  “Do you have any more luggage, Mr. Hermann?”

“No,” replied Mr. White.  “I imagine that the other items have already been delivered?”

“Yes sir.” 

“Very good.”

“I’ll take you to your suite.  Please follow me.”

“Thank you.”

They walked down a long hallway.  Passed wide doorways opening onto rooms, all furnished with a serious, ornate luxury.  The sound of piano music, a classical piece, expertly played, began drifting over them.  Forgetting himself, Jesse turned his head towards the room from where the music came, glimpsed a grand piano darkly gleaming near a large window.  A pretty girl with long dark hair was seated behind the piano, playing.  She was naked, her pale skin glowing in the afternoon sunlight.

Jesse stopped in his tracks, staring.  Saw a grey haired man about Mr. White’s age, seated near the piano in a low chair, watching the girl with enjoyment.  A slender woman stood next to him.  She was dressed in a long, tight black dress and balanced on high narrow heels.  Her dark red hair was pulled tightly back from her face in a thick braid that trailed down her back.  She watched the girl with a neutral expression. 

Feeling the weight of Jesse’s stare, the woman glanced at him.  Then turned fully, inspecting him closely.  Jesse saw her eyes run up and down his body.  She raised her eyebrows, her look both amused and filled with warm admiration.  The seated man, noticing the direction of her gaze, glanced over casually.  Stilled when he saw Jesse. Then stared at him intently.  The girl kept on playing, lost in the music, oblivious.

Mr. White noticed Jesse wasn’t following.  He turned, observed Jesse staring shocked at the three people.  Noted the rapt attention of the man and woman, their eyes fixed on his young partner.  Snapped his fingers.  Jesse looked at him swiftly.

Mr. White stared at him coldly.  Pointed his finger at his heel.  Then turned and kept walking.  His meaning was unmistakeable.  Jesse flushed, hurried to catch up.  Heard the woman’s laughing voice, over the notes of the piano.  “My God…he’s _stunning!”_

Jesse glanced back in spite of himself.  The man and woman were still staring at him.  The girl at the piano had also noticed him.  Her hands kept moving on the keys, but she was gazing at him solemnly.  Jesse looked from her back to the woman.  She smiled at Jesse archly, then shook her head.  Jesse turned away, red with embarrassment. 

After turning down another seemingly endless corridor, they arrived at their suite.  The butler let them in, disappeared for a moment, came back.  “I’ve put your bag in the bedroom.  Do you need anything else sir?”

“Not at the moment, thank you,” Mr. White replied.

“When shall I have Claribel come to you?”

“Give us an hour to settle in.”

“Yes sir.”  The butler took his leave.

Jesse looked around.  They were in a generous, high ceilinged space, painted a dark salmon, with tall windows opening out onto a stone patio.  A plush couch and chairs were grouped together towards one side, with a polished wooden desk in a corner.  A wildly beautiful, jewel toned Persian rug covered the floor.   Equally bright, ornately framed oil paintings, a weirdly complimentary combination of abstracts and landscapes, hung on the coloured walls. 

There was a low oblong piece of furniture in the centre of the room.  It looked a bit like a hobby horse, except that its bench angled gently downwards, head pointed towards the floor.  A step stool was fastened to the bench’s opposite end.   Both the bench and the step were padded in black leather.   Manacles dangled from its sides. Jesse stared, a flower of panic starting to unfurl in his belly.

Mr. White came up behind him, put his hands on Jesse’s shoulders.  “That’s a spanking bench,” he murmured.  “I’m going to put you on that later.  When you’ve been prepared for me.”

Jesse turned to him, upset.  “Mr. White,” he burst out.  “May I speak…please?”

Mr. White smiled at him.  “You may, Jesse.  I imagine you have some questions.”

“What is this place?”  Jesse whispered.

“This is…let’s call it a private hotel,” Mr. White replied.  “For wealthy doms travelling with their subs.  That would be you and me for example.  All the comforts of home.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“Because you need a tune up,” Mr. White said.  “I’ve just booked a short one, this time around, but if I like this place, and so far I find it very acceptable, we’ll come back periodically.  Or other places like it.”

“Mr. White—“

“Jesse, you have one more question, and then I have to silence you again.  Choose it carefully.”

Jesse took a deep breath.  He was painfully erect, his cock pulsing against the unforgiving hard plastic of the chastity case.  He made an effort to speak calmly.  “Mr. White, can you please take this horrible thing off me?  I’ll do anything you want.  But please, can you take it off?”

Mr. White shook his head, smiling again.  “It will come off in good time Jesse.  This is your chance to get used to living with it, before you leave me again.”

Jesse looked at him, close to tears.  “Mr. White, please—“

Mr. White stopped smiling.  “That’s enough,” he said briefly.  “You no longer have permission to speak.  And I haven’t forgotten about you staring at those people earlier.  Ignore one of my rules again and you will be punished.  This place offers lots of options.  I don’t imagine you particularly want to find out about them.”

Jesse lowered his head.  Mr. White patted his crotch, feeling his erection beneath the restraints of clothing and the chastity case.  “I can see this is uncomfortable.  Oh well.  Consider it character building.  Now let’s have a look at the bedroom, shall we?”  He pushed Jesse gently ahead of him.

The bedroom was dominated by a wide bed, boxed in by a sturdy black iron frame, with dark mahogany boards at its head and foot.  The foot board was carved in the shape of a pillory, with holes for the head and hands.  Leather covered chains ending in manacles were coiled neatly around the iron posts at the bed’s four corners.  Walt laughed when he saw it.  “All the conveniences,” he said.

Jesse’s eyes went to a metal cage sitting on the floor beside the bed.  There was a square pillow in the cage that looked like a dog bed.   Two stainless steel dishes were placed neatly beside it. 

Walt saw him looking.  “A puppy cage,” he said, calmly.  “I had it delivered to our suite, along with the spanking bench.  That’s going to be your spot while we’re here, if I don’t have an immediate use for you.  And on that note, can you please undress and put yourself in there?  I want to keep working for a bit, before the beautician arrives.”

Jesse opened his mouth.

Walt looked at him warningly.  Jesse closed his mouth again, his eyes distressed.  “You’ll find out what I mean soon enough,” said Walt.  “Now go on.”

Jesse undressed while Walt unpacked their suitcase.  “Hang your suit in the closet,” he said to Jesse.

Jesse opened the closet door.  He stopped short, staring at the rack of paddles, switches and canes that were hanging on a rack on the inside of the closet door.  “I’ll let you select the one I’m going to spank you with,” Walt said behind him. 

Breathing shallowly, Jesse hung his clothes up.  Turned to face Walt.   

“Do you need to use the bathroom, before I lock you up?” Walt asked.   Jesse nodded, eyes lowered.  “Go ahead then.”  Walt said.

Jesse disappeared into the bathroom.  He was in there a long time.  Walt set up his laptop on a small wood desk, started working.  Paused when he heard the toilet flush.  Tap water running.  Eventually Jesse reappeared.  His face was red, eyes glistening.  Walt rose and walked over to him to inspect the harnessed dildo and chastity device.  Everything appeared intact.  “You were able to manage?” he asked Jesse.

“Yes Mr. White.”

“Good.”  Walt patted his bottom.  Gestured to the puppy cage.  Jesse slanted a look at him, then crawled into the cage, curling up on the pillow.  Looked up at Walt through the open cage door.  “Would you like some water?” Walt asked. 

“Yes Mr. White.” Jesse said.  “Please.”

Walt picked up one of the metal bowls, went to the bathroom and filled the bowl with cold water.  Brought it back, placed it in the cage.  “You may lap from that,” he said.  “If I see you using your hands, I will cuff them behind your back.  Do you understand?”

“Yes Mr. White.”

“Good.  Now I’m working for a bit.  Try to rest up, there will be plenty of activity for you later.”  He closed the cage door, locking Jesse in.  Sat back down at the desk.  Looked briefly over at Jesse, contained in the cage.  Met his partner’s eyes.  Then turned away, becoming absorbed in his work.

Jesse watched Mr. White through the bars of the cage.  He shifted, the dildo jammed uncomfortably into his ass, tormenting him.  He’d removed it to relieve himself, washed it, then shoved it awkwardly back in, cursing Mr. White.  Urinating with the chastity device had proved surprisingly easy though.  And no mess.  That was a relief at least.  Although it was unthinkable that Mr. White would actually make him wear it for days at a time.  He really hoped his partner was just saying that to scare him. 

Jesse eyed the bowl of water, sitting on the floor of the cage.  He _was_ thirsty, had forgotten, in his earlier distress, to drink when he had the chance.  Thirsty enough to accept the humiliation.  He rose to his hands and knees, lowered his head to the water and started lapping it.  Finished, looked up.  Mr. White had stopped working, was watching.  Jesse glowered at him.  Mr. White smiled, amused.

Jesse turned his back on his partner and curled up on the soft pillow, fuming.  He was going to pay Mr. White back for this.  The opportunity would come and he was ready for it.  Jesse folded his arms around himself comfortingly.  Waited.

***

The sun was lower in the sky, the desert outside their little bower of pines less blazingly bright.

Walt glanced down at Jesse, who was lying tensely beside him, breathing shallowly.  Walt put a hand between Jesse’s legs.  The young man’s cock was rigid beneath the soft cotton of his sweat pants.  Walt stroked him. 

“Want me to go on?” he asked.

Jesse swallowed.   Then turned his head and put his face against Walt’s throat.  Opened his lips against Walt’s skin.  “Yeah, go on,” he muttered.

Walt kissed him.  “That’s not the way to ask,” he said gently.  

Jesse took a breath.  “Please go on, Mr. White.”

Walt smiled.  “Okay…”

 


	25. Chapter 25

There was a knock on the door of the suite. Mr. White rose to answer it. Women’s voices. Jesse sat up, crouched in the cage, his head cocked towards the sounds in the other room.

Mr. White’s voice. “He’s in here.”

Two women followed behind him. They were short, plump older women, both clad in pale pink uniform dresses and white nurses’ shoes. One of them carried a large metal case, with clasps on its lid like a toolbox. The other had a garment bag draped over one arm and held a couple of cloth bags in her other hand.

“Where to put this, Mr. Hermann?” A European accent.

“In the closet, please,” Mr. White replied. “Where would you like him?”

“The dressing room,” the other woman replied. A French accent. “Sofia will set up the table. May I see him?”

“Over here.” Mr. White and the woman walked over to the cage. The woman bent down, peering at Jesse through the bars. Her face brightened. “Ah…he is lovely Mr. Hermann…we will do beautiful work with this one.”

“Yes,” said Mr. White. “That’s what I’m expecting. Shall I get him out for you?”

“Yes please Mr. Hermann.”

Mr. White bent and unlocked the cage door. Jesse was staring at him through the bars. Mr. White met his eyes. “You can come out now, Jesse.”

Jesse crawled out of the cage, stood awkwardly in front of the woman and his partner. He was red with embarrassment, painfully conscious of the humiliating items decorating him. The woman looked critically at the plastic case containing his cock. “Would you be able to remove that for us, Mr. Hermann?”

“I would prefer not to,” Mr. White replied. “Can you not work around it?”

“We will need to reach the skin here, you see?” The woman indicated Jesse’s groin. Jesse stepped back.

“Stay still Jesse,” Mr. White said absently. “Very well, I’ll unlock him for you. Let me get my keys. You can get started. Go with Claribel please, Jesse. Do what she asks.”

The woman gestured to him. “Come with me, cher.” She walked towards a doorway at the far end of the bedroom. Jesse followed her.

The doorway opened into a large, tiled room, mirrors reflecting bright ceiling lights. Jesse saw a metal table, of standing height, with a padded black leather surface and a headrest containing a hole for the face. It looked like a standard massage table, except for the buckled leather straps dangling around its sides, and at the base of the headrest. Near the table was a barbershop chair, also black leather, with restraining straps on its arms and feet.

A marble counter with a sink ran along one wall. Resting on top of it was a sturdy looking, tabletop stock of dark polished wood, with holes carved in it for head and hands and a handle at the top.

At the far end of the room was an open, tiled shower area, with a shower head fixed in the ceiling. A metal bar with dangling manacles hung down beside the shower head.

Next to the shower area was a sinister black toilet, raised up on a pedestal and suspended over a ceramic basin. There were sturdy black leather ankle and wrist restraints on the metal frame securing the toilet seat to the pedestal.

The other woman, Sofia, was spreading a white cotton sheet over the table. The metal box was standing open on the counter beside her, displaying a variety of cosmetic items.

Jesse stopped short when he saw the room. Then backed up, shaking his head. “No. No _way_ —“ Turned to leave. Ran into Mr. White. His partner put his hands on Jesse's arms.

“Where are you going, Jesse?” Mr. White said mildly. He held Jesse lightly.

“Mr. White,” Jesse whispered frantically. “Whatever you have in mind here, please, no.”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to speak,” Mr. White said.

“Then punish me for it. But not here. Please Mr. White, okay? This is way too creepy.”

“Jesse,” Mr. White said. “Do those ladies look scary to you?”

“Yes. They do,” Jesse whispered to him. “Please, can we go? I’ll do whatever you want. But not _here,_ okay? Please?”

Walt sighed. Then he called over Jesse’s shoulder to the two women, “Ladies, can you please give us a moment?”

The women nodded and left. Walt turned to Jesse. “Jesse,” he said. “Up until now, what's between us has been private. That has allowed me more latitude in how I deal with your smart mouth and other lapses of proper behaviour. But here, you must understand that the way you act reflects directly on me. The staff and other guests of this place will expect you to behave according to their code of conduct, and it will reflect poorly on both of us if you don’t. You're safe with me and won't come to any harm, as you well know. So going forward, I expect absolute, unquestioning obedience to any directive I give you, or that anyone else gives you, should I ask them to. Fear of punishment should not be the only motivator for you. You should also be motivated to show those around you what a good slave you are.”

 _“Slave?”_ Jesse hissed at him.

Walt smiled back. “Yes. While we're here, you’re my slave. And I’m your Master. Or if you prefer, your Owner. That’s how you’ll refer to me.” Walt’s hand dropped to Jesse’s cock, which was hard again, straining against the case that enclosed it. “You’ll get used to it, you’ll see,” he said, softly. Kissed him on the lips. “Are we clear?”

Jesse’s eyes had closed. “Yes Mr. White.”

“Very good. And remember please, to address me as Sir, in front of the others.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Excellent. Now I have to give you a quick spanking for that little lapse of yours, and then we can let the ladies get on with their work. I think that counter in there should do nicely.” Walt pushed Jesse gently into the dressing room. “Bend over it please. Flat back, legs straight. Stick your bottom out.”

Jesse assumed the punishment position, bending forward at a careful ninety degree angle, face towards the floor, his outstretched arms braced on the counter. He spread his legs slightly, tilting his bottom up.  Walt checked his positioning with a critical eye. Tapped Jesse's lower back. Jesse arched, further pushing his bottom up and out. Walt nodded approval, giving Jesse's bottom a brief pat.  Then he glanced away, distracted by the wooden table top stock on the counter.  Picked it up, examining it bemusedly. “How handy,” he said smiling. “Transportable. It even folds. And look, there’s clamps on the bottom. Perfect for attaching you to my desk. We’ll try it out later maybe, when we have more time. I’m just going to get a paddle. Don’t move.” He patted Jesse’s bottom again and returned to the bedroom. Opened the closet door, reviewed the selection of paddles. They appeared to be arranged in order of severity. He selected a rectangular maple paddle of moderate severity and hefted it experimentally in his hand. Felt fine. Walked over to the bedroom’s doorway and looked into the adjoining room. The two women were waiting quietly there.

“Ladies, you might as well finish setting up.” Walt said. “I just need to quickly spank my slave and then we can get started.”

“Yes Mr. Hermann.” The two women returned to the dressing room. They didn’t look at Jesse. Jesse glanced quickly at them, appalled, but kept silent.

Walt returned, surveyed Jesse’s white bottom, turned up under the bright lights. “Do you know why you're being spanked Jesse?” he asked.

Jesse swallowed. “Yes Sir.”

“Please tell me why.”

“Because I spoke without permission.”

“Very good. Since I understand this experience has been alarming for you, I’ll keep this spanking to ten strokes. Count for me please.” The paddle descended crisply.

“One…”

Jesse had started to writhe his bottom slightly. “...Ten.” There was a rosy pink blush on his cheeks. The sight was so enchanting that Walt was tempted to continue, but of course, that was unfair. There would be plenty of opportunity later, anyway.

“What do you say, Jesse?”

“Thank you Sir.”

“And what lesson will you take from this?”

“Not to speak unless I’m asked. Or allowed.”

“Very good. You may straighten up now.”

Jesse straightened, his cheeks flushed. Walt undid the straps of the dildo and pulled it carefully from Jesse’s anus. Saw his partner let his breath out softly. “Now let’s get this off you.” Walt unlocked the chastity case and removed it delicately. Ran a hand over Jesse’s hardened shaft. Jesse closed his eyes. “Okay ladies, he’s ready for you,” Walt said.

Jesse opened his eyes, stared at Walt. Walt pushed him gently towards the two women, who were standing beside the leather table, now covered with a cotton sheet. “Climb up on the table Jesse. Lie on your back.”

With another speaking glance at Walt, Jesse climbed up onto the table and lay down. Stared up at the bright ceiling lights.

“Do you want we strap him down, Mr. Hermann?” Sofia asked.

“No, he’ll do as he’s told,” Walt replied. “Means more work for you whenever you need him to change positions.”

“Is okay. Part of the service.”

“I understand. I think we’ll forgo that for now.”

“What do you wish us to take off, Mr. Hermann?” Claribel asked.

“Everything,” Walt said. “Except for his throat and face. I like the stubble there.”

Jesse was breathing hard, glaring at Walt. Walt smiled at him. “Remove all the rest of his body hair,” he said. “Everywhere. Make him satiny smooth.”

***

Jesse’s skin was tingling from head to foot. Hot wax had been applied to most of his body (including his _groin_ ) and ripped sharply off. Then he had been wiped down with hot towels. Now the two women were rubbing some lemony scented lotion into his skin. Mr. White had left the room.

Jesse rubbed a hand against his smooth thigh experimentally. It felt like stroking a girl’s thigh except that the flesh was harder.

Claribel tapped his hand. “Ah-ah cher, that is not for you to do,” she said admonishingly. “Not unless your Master says. Keep your hands still or we will have to strap you down.” Jesse swallowed, subsided.

She walked to the doorway. “Mr. Hermann, we have finished waxing him. Would you like to see?”

Mr. White appeared, green eyes on Jesse. Jesse saw him pause. Then he walked quickly across the room and stood over Jesse as he lay on the table. Ran a hand up Jesse’s bare leg, his palm registering the silken skin. His expression was absorbed. He ran his other hand up Jesse’s hairless abdomen, turned the back of it over Jesse’s chest, now satin smooth. Jesse was breathing rapidly, struggling to keep himself still. He raised his mouth to Mr. White appealingly. Mr. White smiled at him, his eyes tender. He bent and kissed Jesse lingeringly. “You’re so beautiful,” he said against Jesse’s mouth.

Then he straightened up, running his hands down along the sides of Jesse’s body, stroking the satiny thighs and calves. “Claribel, this is commendable work,” he said. “Very nice.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hermann. Would you like us to do his hands and feet now?”

“Yes please. And perhaps you could shave him again. Very close.”

“Yes Mr. Hermann. Cher, come with me please.” She indicated for Jesse to get up. He slanted a glance at Mr. White, who nodded. Levered himself off the table. Claribel pointed to the barbershop chair. Jesse sat down in it, cautiously. “We will shave him first. Would you like to have him bound?”

Jesse met Mr. White’s gaze, wide-eyed. He begged him silently to say no. Mr. White looked back, expression suddenly amused. “Why not?” he said, smiling. “Full service, after all.”

The two women quickly secured Jesse’s wrists to the chair with the leather straps. Jesse glared at his partner.  Mr. White grinned at him.

Claribel was wetting a towel. She wrapped the steaming hot cloth around Jesse’s face, then started briskly mixing lather in a shaving bowl. Sofia put a tub of hot water on the chair’s footrest. “Feet in here my dear.” She placed Jesse’s feet in the tub, squeezed some lotion into the water. Then strapped his legs to the chair.

Claribel bent Jesse’s head back, removed the towel. She was holding a straight razor. Jesse closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing even. She started shaving him, expertly.

She had finished. “Mr. Hermann, would you like to try?” She indicated Jesse’s face. Mr. White stepped forward and stroked his fingers over Jesse’s shaven cheek. “Very nice,” he said. “Much better than you seem to be able to achieve for yourself Jesse.” Patted him. 

“What colour polish do you want, Mr. Hermann?” Sofia held up a tray of nail lacquers.

“Clear on the hands please. We’ll go with this red one on the feet.” Mr. White selected a dark red bottle from the tray.

“Yes Mr. Hermann.” Sofia sat down next to Jesse’s side. Unbound one wrist and took his hand in hers. Started manicuring his nails. Claribel unbound his feet, took the tub away. Sat down on a stool, rubbed his feet briskly with a towel and then bound one foot back against the chair. Took the other foot in her hands and started pedicuring it. Mr. White left the room again.

The two women continued to work on Jesse quickly and thoroughly, keeping one hand and foot bound at all times. Strapped all four limbs down again when they were done. “We will do his eyebrows now,” Claribel said to Sofia. She went to the doorway. “Mr. Hermann, how would you like his eyebrows?”

Jesse was staring at his manicured hands in fascination. His fingernails were smooth and gleaming, perfectly shaped. He flexed his hands under the restraints.

Mr. White came back in the room, stood beside Jesse’s upturned face. Ran a thumb gently over one eyebrow. “Not too thin,” he said. “Keep the same shape, just clean them up a bit.”

“Yes Mr. Hermann.” Claribel started plucking Jesse’s eyebrows.

“Would you like to see the clothes Mr. Hermann?” Sofia asked him. “Yes I would,” Mr. White replied. They left the room together.

Claribel finished plucking Jesse’s eyebrows, her own brow furrowed with concentration. Then she stood back. Pursed her lips then nodded her head. Put some lotion on a cotton pad and cleaned Jesse’s face gently. Smiled at him. “You’re such a beautiful boy,” she said. “Your Master must be so proud of you.”

Jesse’s eyebrows twitched together. He opened his mouth. Claribel shook her head, raising a finger to her lips. “You know better, cher. Don’t make me tell your Master. He will get upset if he has to punish you again for the same thing.”

Jesse sealed his lips together. Claribel stood back, considering him, her hands on her hips. “I will turn that face into a work of art,” she said. Jesse stared at her. She smiled at him again, then started selecting and laying out brushes and containers of cosmetics.

Claribel was applying a slick red gloss to Jesse’s lips with a brush. A final stroke and she stepped back. Her face was candid with admiration. “Sofia, cherie, come in here.” she said, still gazing at him. Sofia appeared behind her. Her lips parted. “My God.”

“May I see?” Mr. White’s voice.

Claribel hurried to the doorway, her hand up. “No, no Mr. Hermann, let us finish getting him ready for you. You can see him when we’re done.”

“Very well,” Mr. White sounded amused.

Sofia entered the room, holding a stack of clothing and carrying a cloth bag. Left the room, returned, holding a wig of long black hair carefully in both hands.

“That’s the one he wanted?” Claribel asked. “I thought we were doing blonde.”

“He changed his mind,” said Sofia.

Claribel looked critically at Jesse’s face. “I should darken the eyeliner to match,” she said. Picked up a black pencil. “Look up, cher.” She smudged the liner carefully under Jesse’s eyes. “There.”

Sofia was smoothing down Jesse’s hair. Then she covered his head with a tight mesh cap. Claribel smiled at him. “You look beautiful even in the cap, cher,” she said. “Like a gorgeous mannequin.”

Sofia placed the wig carefully onto Jesse’s head, positioning it precisely around his ears. Took up a large round brush and started smoothing the hair down over Jesse’s naked shoulders. “He needs to stand up Claribel,” she said.

Claribel undid him. “Stand up cher,” she said. Jesse rose with some difficulty, stiff after being strapped down. He stood quietly between the two women. Sofia walked around him, reached up and further adjusted the wig from the back, brushed it. “There.”

“We should dress him now,” Claribel said. “Do you have the gaffs?”

“Yes.” Sofia picked up an item of clothing from the counter, held it up. It was a triangle of stiff, shiny black fabric, with a loop of wide black elastic and three thin black straps attached. “I will help you put these on,” she said to Jesse. “Lift up your feet.” Jesse complied. Sofia pulled the garment up to his groin.

Then with a complete lack of embarrassment, she tucked Jesse’s cock into a panel pocket hidden inside the triangle of fabric, arranging his balls neatly. Jesse twitched, startled. She patted him. “Stay still my sweet. Spread your legs.”  She positioned the garment's tight, wide black elastic band carefully around Jesse’s waist. Then drew the middle strap, which was attached to the triangle of fabric now containing his cock, up between his bottom, turning the garment into a set of g-string panties. Clipped the strap to the back of the waistband and tightened it, pulling the triangle of cloth firmly up between his legs.  Jesse winced as his cock and balls were forced tightly into his groin, the flesh mercilessly pulled and shaped by the stiff fabric of the panties. Then Sofia attached the remaining two panty straps to clips on each side of the waistband, causing them to frame Jesse's bottom, curving around the outside contour of each cheek.  She tightened the panty straps carefully.

Sofia then walked around to Jesse's front, looked at him critically. She ran a hand over his groin, which now lay flat under the hard cloth of the panties. Jesse jumped back at her touch. Sofia ignored him. “Could be smoother.” Walked behind him, further tightening the middle panty strap between his legs. Walked back, checked the effect again. “That looks better. Smooth. And even a dip, in the centre, that's good. You can't tell, now.” Claribel nodded.

Both women were looking intently at Jesse's groin, lips pursed. They tilted their heads to the right in unison. Jesse felt a laugh rising suddenly. He pressed his lips together. Thoughtlessly put one hand between his legs to check out what they were examining so closely. They sprang into action. “ _No, no, no,_ cher, not to _touch!”_ Claribel snapped, grabbing his hand. “What did I tell you? That is only for your Master to say. Forget again and I will have to tell him.” Jesse’s hand dropped to his side.

“That's better."  To Sofia, "Let’s put his stockings on now. Cher, sit down in the chair again.” Jesse sat. Sofia rolled a pair of silky black stockings up his legs. Jesse stared down, arrested by the unfamiliar feeling of the nylon against his smooth skin. “Stand up my sweet.” Sofia clipped a sturdy black satin garter belt around his waist. Attached the stockings to it.

Jesse started to feel distress rising. He stood stiffly, biting his lip. “Be careful of your makeup cher,” Claribel said absently. She had turned around from the counter, a bra hanging heavily in her hands. The cups of the bra were of translucent black mesh, stretched snugly over a set of realistic bra forms, complete with nipples. It looked like she was holding a set of breasts in her hands, dangling grotesquely. Jesse backed up. He shook his head. “ _No._ Uh-uh. I’m not putting _that_ on.” Sofia stopped him from behind, her hands firmly on his waist.

Claribel walked up to him. Looked up at his face, her eyes hard. “We have special punishments here for disobedient slaves,” she hissed. “You embarrass your Master by disobeying his wishes and I will make a recommendation you will severely regret. You think you’ve had hard discipline already don’t you? Well think about the hardest punishment you have taken so far and multiply that by ten. _That_ is what I will recommend for you. And your Master will do it. If you embarrass him, he will do it.”

Jesse was shaking, staring at her. The woman’s face had become a frightening mask, with glinting, gimlet eyes. The other witch was holding him hard by the waist. (By _ten_? Would he even live through that?) He closed his eyes. “Go ahead,” he said hoarsely, defeated.

Claribel smiled at him. “Thank you cher. Raise your arms.” She slipped the bra over Jesse’s shoulders, hooking up the wide bra band. Jesse felt a ribbon of sticky rubber on the band next to his skin, securing the bra in place.  Claribel made some precise adjustments to the bra's shoulder straps. Then she and Sofia looked at him critically, assessing the effect. “Yes,” Claribel said. “It looks good. Now the corset."  She patted him.  "To give you a tiny little waist, cherie.”

Sofia brought over a stiff black satin shell with a steel zipper at the front and a criss-crossed row of satin ties at the back. She clasped the shell around Jesse’s waist, positioning it carefully under the heavy bra, and zipped it up. Jesse felt the corset’s hard steel bones press down against his ribs as the garment enclosed him. He took a breath. Sofia shook her head at him. “Breath out dear.” Jesse breathed out. At the same time Claribel tightened the ties at the back, pulling the corset in snugly. Jesse gasped. “More dear,” Sofia said. “Push the breath out.” Jesse tightened his belly, forcing more breath out of his mouth. Claribel yanked strongly on the ties, tightening the corset even further. Secured the ties firmly. Jesse was gasping, struggling to draw air into his lungs.

Claribel circled her hands around Jesse’s waist. “Good,” she said. “I thought we could make you small. Now the shoes. Sofia?”

“Shouldn’t we put the dress on first?”

“Mr. Hermann probably wants to see him before the dress.”

Sofia went over to the bag on the floor. Withdrew a cardboard box, opened it. A pair of black shoes with high narrow heels and ankle straps were nestled in white tissue paper. She brought the shoes over to Jesse. “Sit down dear.”

Jesse sat carefully in the chair. His bare bottom was sore against the cool leather. The tight restrictive clothing the women had put on him made him feel both bound and painfully exposed at the same time, his smooth body unfamiliar to him, the long black hair of the wig brushing his skin.

Sofia knelt and slipped the shoes carefully over his stockinged feet. Fastened the shoes’ black straps around Jesse’s ankles. “Stand up dear.” She held out a hand to him.

Jesse stood up carefully. He was wobbly in the high heels. Sofia kept hold of his hand. “Walk a few steps dear.”

Jesse took a few careful steps.  Found his balance. “That’s very good cher, keep walking,” Claribel said. The high heels forced Jesse to thrust his bottom out and sway his hips from side to side. He eventually found the rhythm of this new gait, his natural grace returning. “Good, dear,” Sofia said. “You look good.” Jesse caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, stumbled. Claribel caught him. “Don’t look yet cher. Wait for your Master.”

“I think he’s ready, Claribel.”

“Yes. I’ll get Mr. Hermann.” Claribel spoke into the other room. “Mr. Hermann, he’s ready for you now. We haven’t put the dress on him yet, in case you would like to see him first.”

“Thank you,” replied Mr. White’s voice. He appeared in the doorway.

Went still.

Jesse stared at him, precariously balanced on the high heels, his arms awkwardly at his sides. Saw Mr. White’s eyes narrow behind his glasses. His expression was unreadable.

Jesse felt tears rising, suddenly. How had he and Mr. White arrived at this place?

He was struggling to breathe, his ribs heaving shallowly against the steel bones of the corset. Watched Mr. White walk into the room.

Mr. White approached Jesse slowly. He stopped in front of him, placing his fingers lightly on Jesse's face. Trailed them down to Jesse's throat. Jesse’s eyes stayed on him, raw.

Mr. White looked thoughtful, almost grave. He put his hands gently on Jesse’s shoulders. “Turn around,” he said quietly. Turned Jesse to face the mirror.

Jesse stared at the reflection in front of him. He saw a girl with long, black hair, staring back at him. There was a stunned expression on her face.

The girl’s wide eyes blazed out from the mirror, startlingly blue against smoky black makeup and a fringe of long black lashes. Her pale face, with its silky white skin, high cheekbones and fine brows winging up, had a severe, almost otherworldly beauty, the look of a dark angel. Her generous mouth was painted a lush rose red, the gently curving lips slightly parted in shock.

Mr. White stood motionless behind the girl, his hands on her shoulders. He was staring at her reflection in the mirror. Jesse followed the direction of his gaze.

The girl’s slim waist was tightly encased in a black satin corset, which covered her from just under her full breasts, displayed in a translucent black bra, to her narrow hips. Her slender legs, gleaming white, were clad in black stockings, held up by black garters. Her crotch was covered by a stiff black g-string, drawn up tightly between her legs. She was balanced, hips thrust slightly outwards, on narrow, black high heels, strapped at the ankles.

Jesse blinked, met Mr. White’s eyes in the mirror. Saw the girl’s eyes do the same.

“Isn’t he beautiful, Mr. Hermann?” Claribel’s voice. “I have never seen such a stunning transformation."

“Stunning,” Mr. White said absently. “You did well Claribel, Sofia. Now may I ask, can you leave us?”

“But what about the dress, Mr. Hermann?”

“I’ll put it on him.”

“Very well Mr. Hermann. Thank you for the opportunity to work on this one, it was a true privilege.” The two women packed up and left.

Mr. White continued to look at the girl silently. Then he put his hands around her satin clad waist.

Kissed her throat.

A shiver passed through Jesse's body at the touch of Mr. White's mouth on his skin. He felt himself weakening, leaned against his partner helplessly. His head fell back onto Mr. White’s shoulder. In the mirror, he saw the girl’s body curve gently as she bared her throat to Mr. White’s lips.

Mr. White slid one hand down along the girl’s belly, thrust two fingers strongly between her legs. Jesse winced. “Ouch, Mr. White, please,” he said faintly. “I’m all packed down in there. It’s sensitive.”

Heard Mr. White chuckle. He cupped his large hand over the girl’s groin. Jesse saw the girl’s blue eyes widen then become distant, half lidded with sharp pleasure. Her lips opened further.

Mr. White’s other hand went to Jesse’s bare bottom, rubbing the smooth cheeks with leisurely care. Jesse was caught, tormented between the two strong hands, the rasp of a palm against his sore, tender skin, the press of hard fingertips against the exquisitely sensitized flesh between his legs. He writhed futilely, rose up on his toes, shuddering.

Mr. White's hands moved to Jesse's hips. “Turn around,” he said, “I want to see what you look like from the back.” He pivoted Jesse around. Unsteady in the high heels, Jesse put his arms around Mr. White’s neck for balance.

Walt gazed at Jesse's reflection in the mirror. Brushed aside the long, black hair.  Observed the square slim shoulders and pale graceful back rising from the tightly corseted waist, the slender hips flaring out gently beneath. Jesse's round bottom, still pink, was framed enticingly by the black garter belt and the taut thin straps of the panties.

Walt tightened his grip on his partner, pressing him into the hard bulge at his groin. Jesse moaned at the contact. He moved his hips beseechingly against Walt's cock. Walt observed the slim white arms in the mirror, looped around his neck, the slender white thighs, leanly muscular, gleaming through the translucent black stockings.

He stared transfixed at the reflection of Jesse's supple young body, leaning into him, entreating.

“Mr. White, please—“ Jesse chest was heaving. The soft inserts in his bra with their upright nipples nudged against Walt’s chest, the sensation disturbingly erotic.

Walt abruptly took Jesse by the shoulders, held him at arm’s length, frowning.  Stared grimly at the smoky blue eyes, the open red mouth.  He was shaking, his cock rigid.  Said to Jesse with soft violence, “I can’t fuck you right now. I can’t even kiss you. I don’t want to mess you up.”

Jesse's throaty voice, “Mr. White, I feel like I’m about to explode, _please_ …”

“No,” Walt said. “We’re going to finish getting you dressed.  And don’t speak again," he added.  "Until I give you permission.”

He watched Jesse swallow, the red lips closing.

Took his partner by the arm and steered him into the bedroom.

There was a shiny, black latex skirt draped over the back of the desk chair. Walt picked it up, held it out. “Step into this,” he said. “Be careful.”

One hand balanced on the chair, Jesse stepped into the narrow skirt, careful not to snag his high heels on it. Walt pulled it up. It fit smoothly over Jesse’s garter belt and corset, encasing his thighs in a shiny latex column. Walt walked around him, doing up the tight waistband.

Jesse’s hand had gone to the back of the skirt. Found his bare bottom. “Mr. White, this skirt has no back!” he exclaimed, forgetting himself.

Walt sighed. “That’s right Jesse. It’s a spanking skirt...and it looks like we’re going to take advantage of its conveniences right now.”

Jesse stared at him. “But…you just spanked me!”

Walt shook his head. “Again the mouth. You’re not learning are you?  Bend over the desk.”

Jesse didn’t move. Fixed pleading eyes on Walt.

Walt considered him. “You know…I think I’m going to use that portable stock. It seems like this is the right time. Stay there.” He walked swiftly to the dressing room, returned with the wooden stock. “Here, I’m just going to clamp it to the desk…there we go.” Opened it. “Okay Jesse, put your head and hands in here like this. But be careful. Don’t mess up your hair.”

Jesse stood frozen. Walt sighed, grabbed Jesse's ear, and pulled him over to the stock. “Careful, don’t trip.” He positioned Jesse’s head and hands gently in the stock and closed it, securing him. Jesse was now bent over the desk. His bare bottom, framed by the latex spanking skirt, tilted up as he balanced on the high heels, the lean muscles of his thighs straining. His body moved slightly as he tried to find a bearable position against the restraining wood of the stock.

Walt was admiring the view. “Really, this device is amazing,” he said. “I’m going to ask if we can take it with us. So convenient.”

He picked up the paddle he had used earlier. “I’m not going to ask you to count this time. Just concentrate on not crying, I don’t want you to mess up your face. But just so you know,” he said conversationally. “The number is fifteen.”

“Mr. White,” Jesse said hoarsely. “May I please ask a question?”

“Okay…Jesse…what is it?’

“Why is it so important that I don’t mess up my face?” Jesse asked.

“Because I’m taking you out to dinner.” Walt replied.

He raised the paddle.


	26. Chapter 26

“Mr. White, why are you dressing me up as a girl?” Jesse asked.

Walt was lying on his back, eyes on the blue desert sky. He felt the tickle of Jesse’s hair against his face. Jesse was pressed up against him, speaking into Walt’s throat. Walt considered the question for a moment. Then answered lightly, “Because you’re my little doll in the glass case, remember? Sometimes when I take you out to play, I want to dress you up.” He ran a hand down between Jesse’s legs, stroked his hard cock. Whispered, “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

Jesse moved against Walt’s hand. Then raised his mouth, started kissing him. Slipped his tongue into Walt’s mouth.

Walt turned towards Jesse, pressing his partner’s body down against the quilt. Jesse kept kissing him, his tongue stroking. Walt muttered, “I think it’s time I fucked you.” His hands went to the waistband of Jesse’s sweatpants.

Jesse broke the kiss, moving slightly away from him. “No…not here…and anyway, you said you wouldn’t, today.”

Walt raised his head, looked at the kid’s face. The wide blue eyes, blinking at him. He sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But you realize I’m going to punish you, for teasing me again. I’m putting you over my knee as soon as we get back. And I won’t be using my hand. You’re fetching the hairbrush.”

Jesse’s eyes closed slightly. He raised his mouth to Walt’s. “Do what you have to do.” Breathed against him.

Walt snorted. “Believe me, I will.”

Jesse kissed him softly. “Keep on telling me the story.” He lay on his side, his body pressed along Walt’s. Put an arm around Walt’s waist. “Give me what I’m paying for,” he whispered.

Walt smiled. “You’re such a hot little bitch, Jesse. Aren’t you?” He grasped Jesse’s cock through the soft fabric of his pants. Pulled on it, not too gently.

Jesse gasped softly.

“Well? Aren’t you?”

Jesse’s eyes were closed. “Yes Mr. White.“

The sad note was back in his voice. Walt paused, then put his arms around him. Returned to lie on his back, drawing his partner onto his chest. Kissed the top of Jesse’s head.

“Yes,” Walt said. “Alright then. Where were we…”

Jesse gets taken out for dinner and afterwards

The paddling was over.

Jesse was bouncing slightly on his toes, his eyes squeezed tight shut against the risk of tears. His bottom was stinging and throbbing painfully. He had started wriggling it, in spite of himself, around the number ten mark. Mr. White loved to see him wriggling and it typically made him spank harder. Jesse knew it was in his interests to hold himself as still as possible. But it wasn’t always possible.

Although to be fair, Mr. White hadn’t paddled him with his full strength. Jesse knew by now when he was holding back. But Mr. White hadn’t held back by _that_ much.

Mr. White’s large hand squeezed his sore bottom. Jesse made a sound of discomfort.

“You’ve got some nice colour,” Mr. White remarked. “A nice rosy red. A pity to cover it up. But we don’t have time for you to stand in the corner right now. Our reservation is for seven. And I’m hungry. We need to finish getting you dressed so we can go. But before we do that, I would like you to explain to me why you were spanked again.”

“Because I spoke without permission,” Jesse said.

The paddle descended on his bottom with a sharp crack. Full strength.

_“Ow!”_

“Because I spoke without permission, _Mr. White._ ” said Mr. White. He didn’t sound happy.

“Because I spoke without permission, Mr. White,” Jesse repeated, his voice shaking.

“And what will happen if you do that again?”

“I will get spanked again, Mr. White.” Jesse said.

“And what should you be saying to me now?”

“Thank you, Mr. White.”

The paddle descended again. Even harder.

“ _Ow! Pl_ —“ Jesse stopped the words, just in time. He writhed his bottom helplessly.

“No,” Mr. White said. “That wasn’t the answer. Try again. Think.”

Jesse bit his lip, afraid.

“I’m waiting Jesse.”

“I…I won’t speak again without permission…Mr. White,” Jesse said, agonized. “I’m sorry I did that. I’ve learned my lesson. Please…forgive me.” He was holding his breath.

Mr. White was silent. Then he laid his hand on Jesse’s bottom, gently.

Jesse closed his eyes again. He felt tears rising, suddenly. He swallowed, forcing them down.

“Very good, Jesse,” Mr. White said. “Perhaps you are starting to learn, finally. But just so we’re clear, if you forget again, you will get spanked again. Twenty, next time. And if you forget after that, twenty five. And if you forget one of my other rules, you will get spanked as well. Starting from ten. And that number will go up by five, if you are so unfortunate as to repeat the same mistake, again. This has the potential to get very painful for you. So I suggest you conduct yourself very carefully. What do you think?”

“Yes Mr. White,” Jesse whispered.

Mr. White laid the wooden paddle lightly against Jesse’s bottom. “Yes, what?”

“I…I will follow your rules. Very carefully…Mr. White. And I…understand I will be spanked again if I don’t. Harder the next time.”

Mr. White patted his bottom. Jesse winced. “Very good, Jesse,” Mr. White said. “Now let’s undo this…” He released Jesse from the stock. “You can straighten up now…oops, careful.” He caught Jesse’s arms as he started to sway. “There you go. Are you okay to stand?”

“Yes Mr. White.”

“Good. You may hang onto the desk if you feel a little dizzy. Now where was that dress…here it is… Ah…lovely. Exactly what I had in mind…”

  
***

Jesse stood silently in the bedroom. Mr. White had pulled a dress of light, soft black fabric carefully over his head, helped him put his arms through the sleeves. Tugged it to drape over Jesse’s sore bare bottom, zipped it up on one side. Adjusted the neckline. Stepped back to view the effect.

Gazed at Jesse with satisfaction. “…Lovely,” he repeated. “Come, have a look.” He took Jesse by the arm, guided him back to the dressing room, halting in front of the mirror.

Jesse took in the reflection in front of him.

The girl was staring back, blue eyes regarding him solemnly from the mirror. Her black hair framed her face. The softly draped bodice of her dress with its wide neckline and loose sleeves further narrowed her shoulders and covered the slender muscles of her arms. The fine fabric draped in graceful folds over her breasts, the slight outline of the nipples rising. The cut of the dress followed the curves of the girl’s hourglass waist and slender curving hips with a casual finesse, its narrow skirt ending an inch or so below the shorter hem of the slick latex spanking skirt underneath.

A ravishingly pretty Goth girl with wide blue eyes and red lips…one with sophisticated taste and money to spend…that’s who was looking back at Jesse from the mirror.

Jesse stared at her reflection, fascinated.

Mr. White stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. He rested his cheek lightly against the side of her head. “Lovely,” he murmured. “You’re lovely.” He ran his hand down the front of her body, bound and sealed under the layers of dress, skirt, corset and panties, and then around to her round bottom, only lightly covered by the soft, draping fabric of the dress. “All neatly contained except for this,” Mr. White said, patting the girl’s bottom.

Jesse winced at the touch. Saw the girl sway slightly on her heels. “Stay there,” Mr. White said. “I have something else for you. And then we’ll go.” He left the room. Came back, something shining in his hands. A necklace of flat, heavy silver links, glinting.

He laid the necklace around the base of Jesse’s throat, clasped it at the back. Jesse heard it seal shut with a click. There was a thick silver ring at the centre of the necklace, nestled at the hollow of Jesse’s throat. The necklace lay heavily, coldly around Jesse’s neck. He stared at the girl in the mirror, the silver links encircling her white throat.

A collar.

“Your collar,” Mr. White confirmed. “I had it made for you. Beautiful, isn’t it? It locks, at the back. You’ll be wearing it, whenever we travel like this. To remind you of who you belong to. And also, to mark you. I don’t want anyone thinking you’re available. Not that you would give them that idea anyway.” He glanced significantly at Jesse. “But you’re tempting. So it’s better for everyone if we’re clear.”

Jesse stared at the collar. He met Mr. White’s eyes in the mirror. Mr. White nodded at him. “You may touch it, Jesse.”

Jesse’s fingers went to the collar. He curled them around the cold, heavy metal. It was tight against his throat. He dropped his hand.

Mr. White left, returned. He held a thin leather leash. He attached the leash to the silver ring at the base of Jesse’s throat. Jesse heard the clasp snap shut. “This locks also,” said Mr. White, casually. “A leash designed for an animal with hands. Or a slave. Like you.” Jesse’s eyes flew to his.

Mr. White was smiling. “What do you say, Jesse?” he said softly.

Jesse stared at him. “It’s a beautiful collar, Mr. White,” he eventually replied. “Thank you.”

Mr. White stopped smiling. “You’re welcome,” he said. Pulled lightly on the leash.

***

  
Jesse and Mr. White were sitting in an expensive beach side restaurant, the low lit crowded space decorated according to the latest trends, populated with polished and beautiful West Coast types, all munching, sipping and chatting to each other enthusiastically. Their table was next to a large window overlooking a dark veranda, steps from the wide expanse of sand. The dark powerful waves of the Pacific ocean, glinting under the gathering dusk, roiled and rumbled in the distance.

Jesse sat gingerly on the edge of his chair, his back uncomfortably straight within the hard circle of the corset, his sore, nearly naked bottom acutely sensitive to the texture of the chair’s rough, nubbly fabric. He was eating carefully.

Mr. White sat across from him, relaxed, eating with enjoyment. He had ordered food and wine for both of them.

“How is your fish, Jesse?”

“It’s very good Mr. White, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And the wine?”

“Very good Mr. White.”

“Excellent.” Mr. White surveyed him. “So how are you enjoying your new identity?”

Jesse paused, then answered. “I’m happy with it if you are Mr. White.”

Mr. White nodded. “Yes. I think it’s quite successful. You look stunning, truly. I’ve wondered about it before, you know. How you would look, if we feminized you. You have that…exquisitely vulnerable quality about you, that…yielding, submissive quality that is so archetypically female. Much more than Skyler. She’s such an Amazon. But you…you make a gorgeous girl, Jesse.”

Mr. White leaned forward, green eyes narrow with amusement. “Eminently fuckable,” he said to Jesse softly. “My little, submissive, well spanked pretty girl.”

Jesse glared at him silently. He had stopped eating.

Mr. White smiled. “You may speak your mind, Jesse.”

“I’m not a girl.” Jesse hissed.

Mr. White’s smiled broadened. “No,” he agreed. “You’re not, are you? You’re a man, under all of that. Not that the people around us could tell, at the moment. But you and I both know it, don’t we? And I can see the man, right now. You’re quite angry with me, aren’t you?”

Jesse was hesitant to answer that. He sealed his lips, his eyes hostile.

Mr. White stopped smiling. “I asked you to speak your mind, Jesse. Obey me.”

“I am _very_ angry with you,” Jesse said. “For dressing me up like this.”

“Yes,” Mr. White said, without concern. “You haven’t truly accepted your submission to me yet. Even after all these years, you’re fighting it.”

“How does _that_ have anything to do with dressing up like _this?_ ”

“Everything, actually. What is a woman’s role Jesse? Traditionally, I mean.”

“I have no idea.”

“Yes you do. A woman’s traditional role is to submit to a man. To submit to his guidance. And to accept his correction if she falls short.”

“O _kay_ , so…so what?”

“So…what do you think your role is, Jesse, in my life?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. You just don’t want to admit it. That’s why you’re so upset with me right now. These clothes remind you of what you don’t want to see. What are you to me?”

“I don’t _know_.”

“Yes you do.” Walt leaned forward. “You’re my woman.”

Jesse mouth opened. “I am not!”

Walt smiled at him. Jesse’s beautiful face, framed by the black hair, glittering in the midst of these tanned, laughing people like a dark flame. “You are. That’s your role in _my_ life, Jesse. That’s your place. That’s who you are. Dressing you like this is reminds you of your real place.”

“But what about Skye?” Jesse asked.

“I married Skyler a long time ago,” Walt replied. “Before I really understood myself. And now…Skyler is my wife of many years and the centre of our family. That’s her role and I honour her for it. But you…” he voice softened. “You’re my real woman.”

Jesse stared at him. “I thought I was your _partner._ ”

Walt shrugged. “Call it what you will.”

Jesse set his jaw. “Mr. White, seriously, this is the _last_ time I’m dressing up like this. You sort of took me by surprise, but this is it. I’m not a _woman_ , and I’m not dressing like one ever again.”

Walt stared at him coldly. “You will dress like one whenever I ask you to. Or our partnership is over.”

Jesse’s eyes filled with tears. After a moment he said, choked. “First you say that about the…chastity thing, and now this. Why do you keep on threatening me? Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No Jesse, I’m trying to get you to see something.” Walt replied. “Wipe your eyes.”

Jesse wiped his fingers under his eyes. “What are you trying to get me to see?”

Walt leaned forward. “Why do you submit to me?”

Jesse blinked at him. “…What do you mean?”

“The punishments I give you,” Walt elaborated. “The rules I impose. Why do you submit to them?”

Jesse held his gaze for another moment, then looked away. “…I don’t know,” he said quietly.

Walt nodded. “That’s right. You don’t really know. You’ve been treating it like a game, haven’t you? That it’s not really so serious. Just a game you play with Mr. White. Just until you grow up.” Asked him, “What’s going to happen when you stop being a kid?”

Jesse was staring at him again. “But you said I was _your_ kid,” he whispered.

“You are,” Walt replied tenderly. “You were. But you can’t stay a kid for ever. You’ve grown up, Jesse. What’s going to happen now?”

Jesse sat still, eyes fixed on him. He was breathing shallowly, lungs struggling against the constraining band of the corset. He stood up suddenly. Walt stared at him, surprised. “I have to get out of here,” Jesse said. “I can’t breathe in this thing, Mr. White. I have to get some air.”

“Sit down,” Walt said sharply. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“I am,” Jesse said. “I’m going down to the beach.”

“You’re not leaving my sight,” Walt snapped. “Sit down!”

Jesse stood over him, swaying slightly on the narrow heels. He put a hand on the table, leaned forward. Spoke softly into Walt’s ear. “What are you going to do, make a scene? I’m not _actually_ your slave Mr. White. You can’t force me to do anything. That was your mistake wasn’t it? Bringing me here. You can’t stop me.”

Jesse turned and left, walking away swiftly, a dark graceful shape. Walt saw the faces of the other diners turn his way as he passed them.

Walt glared after him, fuming. He caught the server’s eye and gestured for the bill.

Jesse made his way out of the restaurant. Walked past the crowded long bar. He saw a group of young men in suits, laughing and talking, glasses of beer in their hands. They looked up as Jesse approached. Jesse felt the weight of six pairs of eyes. He flicked his own eyes back at them briefly. So this is what it was like, getting checked out.

One of the young men, lean and dark haired, was staring at Jesse intently. He wasn’t smiling. Jesse returned his stare. He knew that look. He'd seen that look of caught, almost resentful desire on Mr. White’s face many times. Jesse held the other man’s gaze coldly. He saw himself suddenly walking up to him. Putting his lips close to the other man’s mouth, his hand on his cock. Rubbing his cheek against him, letting the man feel the rasp of his shaven skin. Jesse smiled absently at the thought, still holding the man’s eyes.

The young man stood motionless. He had put down his glass.

Jesse looked away from him. He walked past, conscious of his flowing, swaying gait in the high heels. He felt the man’s eyes following him. He looked about Jesse’s age.

Take _that,_ Mr. White.

  
***

Jesse stood near the water, a dark, quiet expanse of sand behind him. The sun was down, the sky a clear blue black, the white moon hanging in the sky. There was a fresh, chilly wind blowing. The black ocean waves were rumbling and hissing in front of him.

Jesse had taken off the torturing shoes to walk on the sand, tossing them carelessly behind him when he halted at the shoreline. He was considering taking off everything else as well, leaving it in a pile on the beach, walking naked into the cold dark water, swimming out, eventually letting the waves take him, cover him like the quilt of a soft bed.

He heard quiet steps behind him. Then a pair of strong arms around his waist. Mr. White’s warm solid body, embracing him from behind.

Mr. White spoke against his cheek. “You worried me.”

“Good,” Jesse said.

Mr. White pulled him back against his chest. He rocked Jesse slightly. Jesse felt his body softening, leaning into Mr. White, in spite of himself. He closed his eyes.

“You never asked me,” Mr. White said softly.

“Asked you what?” Jesse muttered.

“Why I require you to dress as a woman. Occasionally.”

“Because you’re a kinky bastard, that’s why,” Jesse said. Felt the movement of Mr. White’s chest against him as he laughed.

“No. Well, _yes_ …but no. That’s not why.”

“Well then tell me,” Jesse said. “Enlighten me.”

Mr. White kissed the side of his head. “Because your role, your true role, in our life with each other, is to please me.”

“To please you,” Jesse repeated.

“Yes,” Mr. White said. “That’s the only thing you should be thinking about. How to please me.”

“And…I please you by what, dressing up as a _woman?_ ”

“No. That’s just part of it. Dressing like that is a symbol of your role. A reminder. Of what we really have together.”

Jesse was getting impatient. “And what is that, Mr. White?”

“A marriage,” Mr. White said softly. “A traditional one, where you seek to please me in all things. Where you obey me. Just like a traditional wife, who obeys her husband. That’s what I require of you. That obedience. That level of commitment. And I will dress you as a woman occasionally to remind us both of your true role.”

Jesse was appalled. “My true role? That’s all you see me as? Someone who’s here to please you? Do what I’m told? Doesn’t sound like there’s much in there for _me,_ Mr. White.”

And then he said. “… _Marriage?_    You serious?”

Walt turned him so they were facing each other. “I’m serious,” he said quietly. “My question is…are you?”

“Mr. White, I don’t understand. Don’t I already do what you want?”

Walt’s lips twitched. “You think you obey me all the time?”

Jesse looked away. “Well, no, but—“

“Jesse, I’m speaking to your level of awareness, here. And your motivation. As I said, you’ve been treating this…private thing we have between us like a game. Or maybe, to be fair, like a college course. An exploratory thing, anyway. Seeing where it would lead you.”

His hands tightened on Jesse’s shoulders. “Well this is where it has led you. Here. To this place.”

Jesse was still looking away. “What do you want from me?” he whispered.

“I want you to recognize that I’m first with you. That I’m the centre of your life, not just a stage in it. That I’m your mate. Not your daddy, not your teacher, not your lover, not your business partner. I’m all of those things to you, sure. But I’m more. Acknowledge me.”

Jesse’s eyes were cast down. He was shivering in the cold wind.

“Jesse,” Walt’s voice was soft. Jesse raised his eyes.

“Acknowledge me.” Walt whispered.

Jesse swallowed. “How do I do that?” he whispered back.

“You know how,” Walt told him. “Think.”

Jesse lowered his head again. Walt waited, quiet.

Then Jesse slowly put his arms around Walt’s waist. He spoke without looking up. “You’re first with me,” he said in a low voice. “Everything I do, it’s for you. Or it’s because of you. Everything.”

He closed his eyes. “I can’t imagine not being with you.” He was trembling.

Walt looked down at him. “And?”

Jesse was struggling to breathe. His hands tightened on Walt’s waist. “And…I want to please you. To…obey you. To…make you happy.”

Walt was silent.

“I’m yours,” Jesse whispered.

Walt was silent.

Jesse looked up. His blue eyes contained the silver light of the moon, glimmering. His expression was naked, defenceless. “Mr. White?”

Walt remained silent.

Jesse’s eyes were wide, pleading. Walt looked at him silently. Jesse dropped his forehead onto Walt’s chest. “Mr. White… _please_ …“ His voice was shaking. Whispered, “Say something.”

Walt put his arms around Jesse, gathering him in. “I’m going to cherish you forever,” he said softly. “You’re first with me too. Mine. Above everything else. You gladden my heart, Jesse. And I will make you—“

***

“—so happy,” Walt said. “Because that’s what I want for you, more than anything else. Jesse. For you to be happy. Not to need drugs, or anything else. Just to be happy. In yourself. With me.” He was stroking Jesse’s soft blonde hair.

Jesse was silent. Walt listened to the breeze, sighing through the pines.

“How’s that possible?” Jesse asked, eventually.

“I don’t know,” Walt said. “But that’s what I want.” Continued stroking Jesse’s hair.

Jesse didn’t respond. He had snuggled up to Walt’s chest like a large cat, absorbing the caresses. Now he turned, tucking his back into Walt’s side. Walt turned also, curving his body around him. They lay quietly together on the quilt.

“Go on with the story,” Jesse said. “I want to hear what else you have in mind for me.”

Walt kissed the nape of his neck, put his nose into Jesse’s hair. “Okay…”

***

Walt was kissing Jesse’s mouth, smiling. “I will make you so happy,” he repeated. “Jesse. You’ll know that you’re cherished, prized. Above anything else. You will be adored. And you’ll be happy, I promise.” He was kissing Jesse’s mouth. “My own precious person.”

Jesse’s eyes were on him. “Your mate,” he said.

Walt kissed him again. “Yes,” he replied. “That’s right.” Kissed him. “My mate.” Kissed him again. Raised his head, looked down at Jesse’s face. Cradled both hands gently around the base of his skull, holding him. “And I’ll put you first above everything else,” he murmured. “I’ll guide you, teach you, correct you when you need it, adore you. I'll adore you. I’ll make you happy. You’re the centre of my life. And you will know it.” Kissed him again.

Jesse had leaned into him, his arms tight around Walt’s waist. His head was tilted back. His mouth was open, soft under Walt’s kisses. He pressed himself against Walt’s groin.

Walt ran his hands down Jesse’s back. Felt the cool satin of the corset, under the silky light material of the dress. Moved his hands to Jesse’s bottom, the firm bare flesh under the soft fabric. Caressed him.

Jesse moved against his hand, gently.

Walt kissed him again, then spoke into Jesse’s ear. His voice had lowered.

“You want to please me.”

“Yes,” Jesse answered.

“That’s all you think about.” His lips were against Jesse’s ear. He rubbed Jesse’s bottom.

“Yes,” Jesse said, breathless. Walt started kissing him again. His hands were rubbing Jesse’s bottom and back.

“You understand that you’re married to me. More married to me than Skyler.”

“Yes.”

“You will obey me in all things. You’ll strive to do exactly as I ask.”

“Yes.”

“You will never lie to me. You will never keep things from me.”

“No.”

“You understand that our relationship comes first. That other people in your life are through my permission only. And my permission can be revoked at any time.”

“Yes.”

“You’ll never seek out anyone else without my permission.”

“No.”

“And you will confess to me when you’ve broken a rule, knowing that I’ll punish you.

“Yes.”

“And you will accept my punishment gratefully.”

“Yes,” Jesse whispered. He was clinging to Walt, rubbing his body against Walt’s hard cock.

“And I will always be first for you,” Walt said. “Just like you are for me.”

“Yes.” Jesse said.

“And you’ll be mine forever,” Walt whispered. Gripped Jesse’s hips, pulled him tightly against his body. Cupped his bottom. Jesse rose up on his toes, moaned.

They were kissing. Jesse was nuzzling into Walt’s mouth, his tongue jabbing him, stroking. He was shuddering. Walt felt his own chest heaving, his cock painfully hard.

He put his hands on Jesse’s shoulders, pushed him away gently. “Let’s go back to the hotel,” he said. “You need to rest up. You’re going to have a hard punishment tomorrow, for leaving the restaurant without my permission.”

Jesse stared at him, lips parted. Walt gazed pensively at the fine features, pale in the moonlight. “What are you going to do to me?” Jesse asked.

“I was going to let you pick your own implement tomorrow, when we put you up on the spanking bench,” Walt said. “But I’m not going to do that now. You’re going to be caned. And I will watch. The hotel has an expert flogger on staff. I’ve engaged him for you. For ten a.m. tomorrow.”

Jesse was shaking in his arms.

Walt stroked his back. “What do you say Jesse?”

Jesse swallowed, looked down. “Thank you Mr. White, for arranging that for me.”

Walt smiled at him. “You’re welcome. I’m looking forward to seeing what the flogger will accomplish with that round bottom of yours. It’s always enlightening to watch an expert at work.”

He put an arm around Jesse. “Let’s go back to the car. Where’re your shoes?”

***

  
They were walking towards the rental car in the restaurant’s parking lot. Mr. White kept his hand on Jesse’s waist. Jesse realized, as they passed some other people, that he and Mr. White had never touched each other in public. Casual handholding, arms around each other, that wasn’t part of their vocabulary with each other. It was surprisingly pleasant.

They walked past the broad steps that led up to the restaurant’s front door. A group of people had just exited, laughing and talking loudly. Among them was the dark haired young man who had exchanged glances with Jesse earlier. He stopped still on the landing. Looked at Jesse below, with Mr. White’s possessive hand on him.

Jesse glanced up, saw him. The young man was staring at Jesse, the people around him forgotten. His eyes moved to Mr. White, then back to Jesse. Jesse turned his head, looking away. Mr. White had noticed. His hand tightened on Jesse’s waist. “Who’s that Jesse?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Jesse said. He looked straight ahead as they walked past the steps, conscious of the other man’s eyes, following them.

“That man’s staring at you like he knows you. Did you speak to him earlier?”

“No I didn’t.”

“Why is he looking at you like that?”

“I don’t _know!_ ” Jesse snapped. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Mr. White squeezed his waist warningly. “Respect.” he said.

Jesse took a breath. “I really don’t know, Mr. White,” he said more calmly. “I walked past him on my way out of the restaurant. He noticed me then, I guess. That’s all.”

“Hmm.” They reached their car. Mr. White dropped his arm from around Jesse’s waist, retrieved his keys, pressed the button to unlock the car doors. Opened Jesse’s door for him, gestured for Jesse to enter. “Fold your hands.”

Jesse folded his hands in his lap. Mr. White did up his seatbelt for him. Then paused, still leaning over Jesse. Kissed him suddenly, intensely.

Jesse made a soft sound of surprise. Then raised his own mouth, opening to Mr. White’s kiss.

Mr. White kissed him thoroughly. Then he raised his head, looked at Jesse significantly. “Remember what I said about other men. You’ll never have my permission for that. And I don’t want you looking at them either. Especially when you go out dressed like this. Are we clear?”

Jesse met his gaze steadily. “Yes Mr. White.”

“Good.” Mr. White kissed Jesse’s nose. Then he reached into his pocket and retrieved the coiled up leash. Re-attached it to the ring on Jesse’s collar. “I’m silencing you again,” he said. “You may no longer speak unless spoken to or move without my permission. Please acknowledge my words.”

“I understand Mr. White. I’ll wait for you to give me permission.”

Mr. White smiled at him. “Good boy,” he said.

***

They were back at the rose coloured mansion. Mr. White had left the car with the waiting valet. He greeted the butler at the door. Jesse stood slightly behind him, his leash held lightly in Mr. White’s hand.

“Good evening, Jefferson.”

“Good evening, Mr. Hermann,” the butler replied. “How was your dinner?”

“It was very good, thank you. I appreciate your recommendation.”

“You’re welcome sir. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I have something for you.” Jefferson handed Mr. White a note. “Mr. Adams asked me to give you this.”

“Mr. Adams?”

“The owner, sir. Of this establishment.”

“Ah.” Mr. White opened the note, scanned it. Said to Jefferson, “Very well. You may tell Mr. Adams that I’d be happy to meet him for breakfast. If he doesn’t mind eating early, that is. I have a caning scheduled for my slave at ten a.m.”

“Early will be fine for Mr. Adams sir. Shall we say eight thirty a.m.?”

“Yes that’s fine. May I have a wakeup call?”

“Certainly sir. And I will look forward to seeing you at ten a.m. tomorrow.”

“Oh, are you the flogger?” Mr. White said surprised.

“Yes, I have that pleasure sir.”

“Very good then. I was telling my slave earlier that I’m looking forward to seeing your work.”

The butler didn’t acknowledge Jesse by a flicker of an eyelash. “Thank you sir. I pride myself on the precision of my striping.”

“Excellent. Well, I’m looking forward to it. And to meeting with Mr. Adams tomorrow. Thank you Jefferson.”

“You’re welcome sir. Good evening.”

Mr. White walked briskly towards their room, holding Jesse’s leash. He didn’t look behind him. Jesse followed at his heels, eyes darting from side to side, trying to see as much as possible without turning his head. He had the impression of large, dimly lit rooms with people here and there, faces turning toward Mr. White and himself as they moved past. But Mr. White was pulling him along too swiftly for him to really observe.

***

They were back in their rooms. Walt walked Jesse into the bedroom and looped the leash casually around the handle of the closet door. “I want to wash up. You may kneel.”

Jesse knelt on the floor. Walt checked his position, nodded approval, then disappeared into the bathroom. Jesse stayed kneeling on the floor, his head lowered.

Walt reappeared, shirtless. “You may get up, Jesse.” Reached out a hand to help him to his feet. Unlocked the leash from Jesse’s collar, and coiled it, placing it on the surface of the bureau. Turned back to him.

“Here, let’s get you out of these things.” He knelt at Jesse’s feet, undoing the ankle straps of the shoes. “Step out. Put your hand on my shoulder. That’s it.” Removed the shoes. Then stood, unzipped the dress. “Raise your arms.” Pulled the dress gently over Jesse’s head. Hung it in the closet. “Turn around.” Jesse turned around obediently. Walt admired his bottom for a moment, attractively framed by the black latex spanking skirt. Patted him. Then undid the waist band of the skirt, peeled it down Jesse’s legs. “Step out.” He hung the skirt in the closet. Jesse was still turned away.

Walt considered his silhouette, the waist sharply nipped in by the corset, the slender, muscular legs in the black stockings, the bottom, framed by the black garters and panty straps. He unclipped the Jesse’s bra. “Turn around. Raise your arms. Very good.” He slipped the heavy bra down Jesse’s arms. Held it up, looked at Jesse wryly. “A bit freaky huh?” Jesse looked down. “Yes Mr. White,” he said quietly.”

Walt considered him, the lightly muscled bare chest rising from the corset, the flat pink nipples. He turned and put the bra away in a bureau drawer, turned back to Jesse. Reached out and took a nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching it slowly then twisting. Jesse drew in his breath, but otherwise kept silent. Walt glanced at him. His partner’s eyes were closed, his brows twitched together intently. “You know, I think like you better like this,” Walt said. “With your own bare skin. We’ll have to take that into consideration the next time we dress you up. There must be some wardrobe solution that doesn’t involve prosthetics. What do you think?”

“Whatever you prefer Mr. White.”

“Yes.” Walt pinched Jesse’s other nipple casually, then brushed a thumb over it. “Okay…what’s next...I guess the corset.” He undid the zipper at the front, opening the stiff, steelboned satin shell. Jesse immediately took a deep breath. And then another. Walt smiled at him. “That must be a relief.”

“Yes Mr. White. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Walt put the corset in a drawer. Then knelt at Jesse’s feet again, unclipped the stockings from the garter belt, rolled them down Jesse’s legs. “Step out.” He ran his hands up and down the smooth skin of Jesse’s legs. “Mmm, lovely.” Unclipped the garter belt. “Alright, now the panties. Turn around.” He examined the straps clipped to the panties’ waistband. “Okay, I guess we undo them here…there we go.” The straps fell free. “Spread your legs Jesse…Good grief, look at this. How ingenious.” Walt was untucking Jesse’s cock from the flap at the front of the panties. “Was that rather uncomfortable for you?”

“Yes Mr. White.” Jesse sounded like he was speaking through clenched teeth. Walt glanced at him. Jesse was glaring at him. Walt grinned.

“I imagine you’d like to use the bathroom,” he said.

“Yes Mr. White.”

“Go ahead then.”

“Thank you Mr. White.” Jesse turned to leave.

“Oh, and wash your face,” Walt called after him. “Claribel left some stuff for you on the counter. Some makeup remover lotion and cotton pads. Brush your teeth too. There’s a toothbrush in there. But leave the wig on. I’ll take that off myself.”

“Yes Mr. White.” Jesse left the room.

Walt finished undressing himself. Walked naked into the other room, poured himself a drink from the mini bar, walked back to the bedroom. Jesse was still in the bathroom. Walt lay down on the bed, waiting.

Jesse re-entered the room. He approached Walt hesitantly. He had scrubbed the makeup off his face, leaving it pale and clean. The silky black hair of the wig flowed over his shoulders and down his back.

Walt considered him. With his naked, leanly muscled body exposed, Jesse no longer looked like a girl, but the long girlish hair combined with his smooth, satiny skin, the decorative silver collar around his throat and the vulnerable expression on his delicate face gave him an intriguing, somewhat elfin androgyny.

Walt sat up. “Come here,” he said to Jesse. Watched Jesse silently walk over to his side of the bed.

Walt ran a hand appreciatively over the smooth front of Jesse’s thighs, his flat, hairless stomach and the fine, soft skin at his groin. Jesse closed his eyes. His cock was hard. Walt ran fingers lightly over it. “You’re such a beautiful young man,” he remarked. “You make a gorgeous girl, but you are a beautiful young man. I’m lucky to have you, Jesse.”

Walt rose to his feet. “Here, let’s take this wig off you.” Jesse bent his head cooperatively. Walt lifted the wig off carefully and set it on the bureau. Then peeled the underlying cap off Jesse’s head and set it aside. Jesse’s dark blonde hair was standing up chaotically. Well _that_ certainly looked familiar. Walt ran his hands gently through Jesse’s hair, smoothing it down. Jesse’s expression softened at the touch of Walt's fingers against his scalp.

Walt took off his glasses, laid them on the bedside table. Started kissing Jesse again. “Put your arms around me,” he whispered. Jesse’s arms curled around his waist. Walt stroked his hands up and down Jesse’s silky back. His partner leaned into him.

“Here, lie down on the bed,” Walt said quietly. Guided Jesse onto the soft mattress. “Put your arms above your head. That’s it.” Walt leaned down on one elbow beside him. Jesse was on his back, arms stretched above his head, looking up at Walt silently.

The blue eyes. Walt smiled at Jesse, then kissed his eyelids closed. Kissed his mouth. Moved his lips to Jesse’s throat. Jesse had tilted his head back. Walt nuzzled his throat then moved his mouth to Jesse’s chest. Took a nipple gently between his lips and tongued it. Jesse arched his back. Walt released his nipple, then rubbed his cheek against the satiny bare skin of Jesse’s chest. Rubbed his face against Jesse’s smooth abdomen and belly, the rough shaven skin of his jaw and bristly moustache tickling. Jesse was breathing hard, his eyes closed.

Walt shifted himself, buried his face against the soft delicate skin of Jesse’s groin. Kissed Jesse there, rubbing his moustache against him deliberately. Jesse’s lips were parted. His hands went to Walt’s head.

“No. Keep your arms raised,” Walt said to him. Jesse put his arms above his head obediently. Walt brushed his face back and forth across the skin of Jesse’s groin. Jesse started moving his hips. His hard cock was nudging against Walt’s face. Walt turned his head, took the tip of Jesse’s cock lightly into his mouth, tongued it. Jesse bucked against his mouth.

Walt sat up. Slapped Jesse’s cock sharply. “Keep still.” Jesse drew in a shaking breath.  Walt observed his stretched out, vulnerable body. Then he moved his hands to Jesse’s legs, started rubbing them, digging his fingers into the muscles of Jesse’s calves and thighs, flattening his palms against the warm skin. “Your skin is like satin,” he said to Jesse. “It always was, but now even more. I’ve been hungry for this. To see what it would feel like.” Rubbed his hands up and down.

Jesse bit his lip. His cock was straining, rigid. Walt ran his hands up Jesse’s sides, to his chest. Rubbed his thumbs over Jesse’s nipples, pressing down. Pinched them slowly, with a hard, gradual pressure, pulling and twisting them. Jesse had hidden his face against one arm. “Turn your face back to me, Jesse,” Walt said. “I didn’t give you permission to turn away.” Jesse turned his face back to Walt. He opened his eyes.

Walt smiled slightly at him. Then kissed him, his tongue stabbing into Jesse’s mouth. Ran his hands up along Jesse’s arms and pinned his wrists, laying down heavily on top of him. Continued kissing him, thrust his cock hard against him. Jesse had lifted his chin, opened his mouth, put his tongue into Walt’s mouth, stroking it.

Walt broke the kiss, sat up and reached over for a tube of lubricant on the bedside table. Squeezed it generously over his fingers. “Raise your legs up,” he said to Jesse. Jesse complied. Walt leaned one forearm against the back of Jesse’s thighs and inserted the slick, oily fingers of his other hand carefully into Jesse’s exposed anus, feeling the hot, tight flesh close around them. Thrust his fingers deep into Jesse’s body, finding the smooth flesh of the hidden gland, pressing on it, curling his fingers against it. Jesse was moaning, a rough, broken sound. His hands were turned back against the mattress, clutching at it.

Walt continued invading Jesse’s body with his fingers, moving them up and down. Jesse started to shudder. Walt removed his fingers, squeezed more lubricant onto his own cock, then knelt between Jesse’s legs. Put both thumbs against Jesse's anus, opening him. Pushed in, not very gently. Felt the initial, tight resistance yielding to him, the moistened flesh stretching around him.

Jesse was keening helplessly, his voice raw. He had turned his face away again. Walt watched him, his expression hardening.  Then he leaned over his partner, thrusting strongly into his body. “Look at me Jesse,” his voice was abrupt. Jesse didn’t respond. Walt bucked against him, hard. Jesse gasped. “ _Look_ at me.” Jesse turned tormented eyes back to Walt. Walt stared at him. “Look at me and tell me you didn’t enjoy parading around in that getup this evening," he said. "Switching your ass at that young man, there. You _like_ people panting after you, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t,” Jesse said, faintly. “I didn’t. Mr. White, please—“

 _“Liar.”_ Walt thrust into him again, deliberately rough.

“Ouch! Mr. White, please…that hurt…”

“So what? You like the pain. It reminds you of who you belong to, doesn’t it Jesse?” Walt thrust into him again.

Jesse gasped, clenched his teeth. His eyes flashed at Walt, furious. “Fine! Hurt me then. Rape me, you fucking bastard, go ahead!”

Walt laughed. Then he was moving deliberately, smoothly inside Jesse, his cock nudging and rubbing the deep hidden gland. He leaned over and found Jesse’s mouth, feeding on it. He felt Jesse opening, lifting his bottom up against him. He was moaning again. His mouth had softened under Walt’s lips.

“That’s it,” Walt whispered. “That’s it, you hot little bitch. You’re a little bitch who needs a master, aren’t you Jesse?” He moved slickly inside Jesse, his belly brushing against Jesse’s rigid cock. “Tell me you who belong to.” He was kissing Jesse again. Felt his partner’s breath shuddering. Jesse was trembling. _“Tell me.”_ Walt was thrusting into him, hard and deep. _“Jesse…_ ”

 _“You,_ ” Jesse replied, his voice breaking. “Always you. Happy now, you goddamn fuck?”

Walt laughed breathlessly. “That mouth. I’m adding an extra lash for that tomorrow. You can think about that, when you’re under the cane.”

“I hate you,” Jesse whispered.

“That doesn’t make a difference though, does it?” Walt whispered back. He felt his orgasm coming, thrust into Jesse a final time. Felt Jesse’s body convulsing around him.

“Put your arms around me Jesse,” he gasped. Felt his partner’s arms embrace him. Walt came into him, the pleasure rolling through him, breaking. Heard Jesse cry out, spilling against his belly. Walt sealed his mouth against him, swallowing his cry. Let his weight sink onto Jesse’s body.

They were lying together on the bed. Walt was resting on his partner, his head on Jesse’s chest. Jesse’s arms were around him. “You don’t really hate me.” Walt said to Jesse quietly.

Jesse’s arms tightened around him. “Sometimes I do,” he said.

“But it doesn’t last.” Walt said.

“No.”

“It would destroy me, if you did. If it lasted, I mean.” Walt said.

Jesse put his mouth against the top of Walt’s head, against the warm scalp.  He didn't answer.

Walt turned his face into Jesse’s chest, felt him breathing. “Never leave me,” he whispered.

Jesse was silent. Then spoke.

“I won’t,” Walt heard him say, softly. “I’m here.”

***

Mr. White was sleeping, his body relaxed in sleep. He pressed closely into Jesse’s side, one arm thrown heavily across Jesse’s body, the shaven head buried against him. Jesse was lying on his back, staring at the dark ceiling.

He thought about the punishment, coming.

It was going to hurt. No doubt about that. He would be crying and begging, before the end.

Jesse considered getting up. He could get up right now, get dressed, leave this place. Mr. White wouldn’t stop him. Couldn’t. And Jesse had money, more money than he could spend in a lifetime. He could go anywhere he wanted, do anything he wanted.

Except see Mr. White again. He understood that.

There was a contract between him and Mr. White. Unspoken, but one that bound them both, strengthening over the years, wrapping around them like the tendrils of a vine, thickening in the dark.

It was that Mr. White would push him, to his absolute limits, to the point where Jesse’s life was a thin curtain only, threadbare against the black abyss beyond.

And Jesse would let him, abandoning himself, allowing himself to dangle from Mr. White’s fingers on the thinnest of threads, stretched taut, shuddering in an endless, echoing space.

And then Mr. White would pull him back. Would examine him, curious, interested to know what Jesse had seen on the outside, during that time in the void.

A lively, scientific curiosity. And Jesse would tell him. Show him.

And Mr. White prized this. He cherished Jesse because of it, no doubt. Adored him.

And _that_ was their real agreement. Their silent contract, behind everything else.

Would Mr. White forgive him, if he refused the next ordeal? Refuted that clause requiring...submission.

To another round of pain.

To appease, yet again, Mr. White’s hunger for his devotion. That endless hunger.

If he walked away from the contract.

He didn’t know.

And he wouldn’t be testing that, tomorrow.

Tears started to slip down Jesse’s face.

Mr. White slept on beside him, quietly breathing.


	27. Chapter 27

Walt was rubbing Jesse’s feet.

He had just finished showering, shaving. The wake up call had come at seven thirty, jarring him out of a deep slumber. But it hadn’t woken Jesse apparently.

His partner stayed curled on the bed, face hidden in the puffy hotel pillow.

Walt sleepily picked up the handset. “Yeah.”

“Wake up call, Mr. Hermann.”

“Thank you.”

Walt put down the phone, lay back, blinking up at the ceiling. Well. He and Jesse had a fairly busy day ahead. First the breakfast with the owner of this interesting place, wonder what he wanted.

Walt had a fairly good idea.

Then the caning, then some recovery time. Their flight at four. Skyler was expecting them for dinner.

Walt made a mental note to call her later that morning. Keep the dinner to just her and Holly. He didn’t think Jesse would be up to visiting with the in-laws, this evening. They could see Hank and Marie another time.

Jesse slept beside him, breathing softly. He had his arms wrapped around himself.

Walt glanced over at his partner, smiled briefly. They’d had quite a night. Jesse made a gorgeous girl alright. Walt had been wanting to try that for…years, actually, but hadn’t found the right opportunity. He’d figured getting Jesse to do it would require some finessing. And so it had. But it had been worth it.

He hoped Jesse wouldn’t be too mad at him today. Although, really, he enjoyed that too. It was cute.

Walt stretched, luxuriously. He was looking forward to seeing the welts rise up on Jesse’s bottom this morning. He had never caned Jesse before –had always preferred his belt, for whippings. And the belt didn’t result in those decorative, thin stripes. And to be able to watch, as opposed to doing all the work of the punishment himself…that was going to be truly enjoyable.

It was going to be hard on Jesse, having a stranger’s hand punish him, as opposed to Walt’s. Less intimate. More humiliating, probably. But Walt figured Jesse would understand. He wanted to make Walt happy, after all. He’d said so.

Walt thought about their moment, last night, on the beach. He hadn’t intended to say all those words. They had just sort of happened. Walt was typically fairly cautious about what he said to Jesse, about his feelings and intentions. Didn’t want to give the kid _too_ much leverage.

But he didn’t regret expressing himself.

It was time, really.

Jesse was getting older. The novelty of being Walt’s bad little boy…and the adopted third child of him and Skyler…those roles didn’t really fit him anymore.

And the girls. For the first few years, there hadn’t been any. Jesse had found his life with Walt, Skyler and Holly pretty absorbing. But they were all getting older. And Walt hadn’t felt he could deny Jesse the companionship of young women his own age. After all, he was the age of Jesse’s father. And Skyler, she was older too. Quite a bit older than Jesse, although she was still over a decade younger than Walt. She'd been the one encouraging Jesse to experiment, actually. Had told Walt that Jesse would want children of his own some day. Jesse was so good with kids. It wouldn’t be fair to deny him the opportunity for his own family. Eventually. It was better that he have a chance to be with young women within the context of his relationship with the Whites. Possibly meet someone he could bring into their circle.

To minimize the risk of him of leaving them altogether.

And Walt had agreed. It was a sensible compromise.

But it didn’t seem that he could…compromise anymore.

He found he just couldn’t do it.

This last year especially had been hard on him.

Jesse had been away so much. For their business, sure, but Jesse had _liked_ being away. He was thriving in his job. The responsibility. The travel and variety. The fact that he was so good at it. He had really come into his own. The potential Walt had seen during the early days of their illegal meth business…Jesse had fulfilled that, and then some.

And then, the girls. Young women, rather. Jesse was so attractive, he had his pick of playmates. And when he understood that he had the opportunity to play he…did. Granted, he was respectful about it always. To Walt and Skyler, to the young women themselves. And there had never been a girl close to home.

Jesse always played out of sight.

Skyler was Jesse’s confidante in these matters. Better that way. Although Walt had gone along with it, he really couldn’t stand to hear about it. Better to get the information from his wife.

But after this last trip…and with Jesse going away again so soon…and this girl, in Germany, who seemed to have more of a presence than the others…

Walt found that he couldn’t bear it any more. Couldn’t be understanding. Or compromising. Or forgiving. Or…anything really, other than what he was.

Obsessed. Still. After all this time.

So he had staked his claim. Again.

And hadn’t really given Jesse a choice either. Had shamelessly blackmailed him.

Oh well.

Walt got up to have a shower.

Came back into the bedroom, looked at Jesse, sleeping. His bare feet, sticking out from under the bedcovers, with those hilariously red toenails. Jesse must be thrilled about those.

Walt sat down on the bed.

Started rubbing Jesse’s feet.

***

  
Jesse woke to the touch of Mr. White’s thumbs on his insteps. He made a low hum of pleasure, opened his eyes. Mr. White was sitting on the bed, hands on his feet, smiling at him.

Jesse smiled back. “Mmmm…th—“ he remembered where he was just in time. Sealed his lips.

Mr. White grinned at him. “That was close,” he said. Started rubbing his hands along Jesse’s legs.

Jesse wasn’t smiling anymore. He turned his face away, lying passively on the bed. Felt Mr. White’s strong, supple fingers, stroking him.

Mr. White’s hands were on his thighs. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes Mr. White.”

“Very good.” Mr. White bent over Jesse’s groin. Put his lips against Jesse’s cock. Then laid his head against Jesse’s belly. “You need to get up. Take a shower.”

“Yes Mr. White.” Jesse started to get up.

“Just a moment.” Mr. White’s head was resting on him. “Let me enjoy you for a moment.”

Jesse lay quiet. Then he ran a hand over Mr. White’s shaven scalp, stroked his bare shoulders.

Walt closed his eyes. He felt the rise and fall of Jesse’s warm, flat belly, under his cheek. The touch of his partner’s hand.

Walt considered just lying here with Jesse for the rest of the morning. Jesse and he could spend a lazy few hours in bed, maybe go back to the beach, later. He would cuddle Jesse, stroke his silky skin. His beautiful boy. He didn’t think Jesse would mind.

But those thin pink stripes on Jesse’s white bottom.

The prospect was too delicious to pass up.

Walt sat up. “Up you get,” he said. Jesse sat up also, not looking at him. Walt patted him. “Off you go,” he continued. “And don’t be too long.”

“Yes Mr. White,” Jesse answered quietly. Made his way to bathroom.

***

Jesse was back in the bedroom. Mr. White was standing at the bureau, fully dressed, his back to him.

Jesse halted. Mr. White turned around. The horrible chastity device was in his hands. “Come here,” he said softly. “We’re putting this back on you.”

Jesse lowered his head. Then he walked slowly over to Mr. White. Stood silently while Mr. White re-attached the plastic case to his cock, locked it. Tugged on it gently. “That’s nice and tight. Good. We’ll hold off putting the dildo back in you until after the caning.” Jesse closed his eyes. Felt Mr. White’s hands caress his bottom. “Turn around.”

Jesse turned around, presenting his bottom to Mr. White’s gaze. Mr. White continued rubbing him. “I do love your beautiful round white ass,” Mr. White said.  He kissed the nape of Jesse’s neck. “Okay, let’s get you dressed.” Mr. White walked over to the closet, retrieved a black leather skirt. Held it up to Jesse’s gaze.

“A kilt,” Mr. White said. “I think you’ll look adorable in it. And it’s perfect for this place, of course.” He wrapped the kilt around Jesse’s waist, fastened it. Stood back, looking at Jesse happily.

“Yes,” he said. “You look stunning. Very nice.” Fastened the kilt pin. It was silver, in the shape of a skull. “This gothic look has a certain appeal,” Mr. White said. “The dungeon references and all. I think we’ll keep building your girl’s wardrobe along the same lines. I’m going to enjoy dressing you up again.”

Jesse glared at him, mouth tightly shut. Mr. White smiled at him. Kissed the sealed lips. “I’m looking forward to our trips together, pretty girl,” he said softly.

Jesse looked away.

Mr. White attached the leash to his collar. “Let’s get some breakfast.”

***

They entered the breakfast room, a large round, sunny space with floor to ceiling windows, looking out onto a stone veranda surrounded by sloping green lawns. Arranged in the room were several low, round tables surrounded by comfortable, upholstered chairs, interspersed with potted plants. There were two other couples in the room –a pair of women, seated together, and a woman and a man, the woman seated at a table, and the man kneeling at her feet. The woman was sipping a coffee, reading a newspaper. She was conservatively dressed in a pair of grey tweed pants and a blouse. The man was bent over a bowl of food at her feet, lapping at it. His arms were folded tightly behind his back. He was wearing a black leather g-string and studded harness. Jesse stopped, staring.

Mr. White gave the occupants of the breakfast room a cursory glance, then headed towards a table at the far end of the room, near a sunny window. There was a man seated there, by himself. The leash came up short in Mr. White’s hand. He glanced back at Jesse, pulled on the leash gently. Jesse started moving again, following him.

They made their way over to the seated man. Jesse recognized him as the grey haired man who had been staring at him when he and Mr. White had arrived at this place, the day before.

The man stood up. Walked around the table, his hand extended.

“Mr. Hermann. Good morning.”

“Mr. Adams.”

“Welcome to my home.”

“Thank you. A lovely place. A true pleasure.”

“Thank you. I trust you’re enjoying your stay, then?”

“Very much. Thank you for accepting me as your guest.”

“You’re most welcome. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. It’s not often I have the privilege of hosting an Owner such as yourself. I’ve been awaiting your visit with anticipation.”

Mr. White said nothing. Inclined his head politely.

During his exchange with Mr. White, Mr. Adams hadn’t looked at Jesse once. Jesse stood uncomfortably behind Mr. White, glancing at their host surreptitiously.

Mr. Adams gestured behind himself. “But allow me to introduce my own slave. Rachel, you may rise, darling.”

Jesse’s eyes followed the direction of Mr. Adams’ hand. He now saw a naked young woman kneeling on the floor, her body partially concealed by the table. Her head was lowered. It was the pretty young woman with the long dark hair who had been playing the piano, yesterday. At Mr. Adams’ words she rose to her feet gracefully, and came forward, halting behind him, her eyes demurely cast down.

Jesse stared at her. The young woman was petite, with round breasts like apples, a small waist, curving hips and thighs, and tender, pale skin. Her long, straight dark brown hair fell in a heavy curtain to her waist. A heavy chain of pale gold circled her throat. Another thin gold chain circled her waist. A third thin gold chain came up in a vertical line between her legs, cutting into the soft dark triangle of pubic hair. It was attached to the gold chain around her waist.

“Greet our visitors Rachel,” Mr. Adams said.

Rachel moved lightly forward, dropped down on her knees, and kissed the top of Mr. White’s shoe. Then she stood, came towards Jesse, putting her hands on his shoulders. Raised her mouth up, kissed him on both cheeks. “Welcome,” she said softly. A musical, lilting voice. She looked at Jesse. Her eyes were a light grey, framed with long dark lashes.

Jesse stepped back, startled. Cast a flustered glance at Mr. White.

Mr. Adams was smiling. “Your slave is fresh, I see,” he said to Mr. White.

“Yes,” said Mr. White briefly. “He hasn’t been out in public before. He’s unfamiliar with the protocols. I’m sure you will forgive him.”

“Of course,” said Mr. Adams. He looked at Jesse finally, his eyes sweeping him from head to foot. “A young man like that is forgiven much. He’s truly magnificent Mr. Hermann. I envy you.”

“Thank you,” said Mr. White.

Both men regarded Jesse. The girl was looking at him also. Jesse dipped his head. He was red with embarrassment.

Mr. Adams was smiling again. “But for teaching a fresh slave correct behaviour,” he said, “there is no one better suited to do that than my Rachel. She is a true paragon, my pride and joy, Mr. Hermann. May I suggest that she take your slave in hand and see to him, while we eat and chat?”

Jesse watched Mr. White consider this. He didn’t look happy about it, but clearly felt it would be impolite to refuse. Jesse saw him shrug slightly. “Very well,” he said.

“Excellent,” Mr. Adams said. “Rachel, you may feed Mr. Hermann’s slave. Mr. Hermann, do you allow him to eat with his hands?”

Mr. White glanced at Jesse. Jesse stared intensely at him. He narrowed his eyes meaningfully. Mr. White’s lips twitched. “I do,” he said calmly. “Most of the time.”

Mr. Adams nodded. “Very wise,” he said. “It’s good to allow them normal dignities. Something you can always take away, if necessary. Rachel, you may feed Mr. Hermann’s slave over there—“ he gestured to a low table on the floor, with cushions surrounding it, a few feet from his own table.

Rachel dipped her head. “Yes, Sir.” She looked at Mr. White. “Mr. Hermann?”

Mr. White hesitated, then handed her Jesse’s leash. She dipped her head again, then looked at Jesse. Inclined her head slightly towards the low table and then turned towards it, holding onto his leash. Jesse followed her, lowered himself carefully onto one of the cushions. Rachel knelt beside him and wrapped his leash neatly around his throat, getting it out of the way. She smiled at him. Settled herself back on the cushion across from him.

Jesse glanced cautiously towards Mr. White. His partner was now sitting at the table with Mr. Adams. He was staring at Jesse coldly.

Jesse widened his eyes at him _(what do you want me to do?)_.

Mr. White shrugged, turned away.

A uniformed server came up to Mr. Adams’ table. Poured coffee for him and Mr. White, spoke to them briefly. Then approached Rachel and Jesse. Bent courteously over them.

“Coffee, Miss Rachel?”

Jesse glanced at her, surprised.

Rachel answered. “Yes, thank you, Robert, that would be lovely. And for our guest’s slave as well. Said to Jesse, “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black, please.” Jesse answered softly.

Robert poured. “I’ll bring out breakfast in a moment,” he said. “Cheese omelettes today, and fruit salad. Shall I bring out two sets of knives and forks?”

“Yes please, Robert, thank you,” Rachel answered. “And some orange juice please. And toast.”

“Of course, Miss Rachel,” Robert answered. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Extra cheese for me,” Rachel said. “Tell Stan thanks.”

Robert smiled at her. “I will,” he said. Left them.

Jesse was staring at her. Rachel glanced at him, smiled. “What’s your name?” she asked quietly.

“Jesse,” he answered, equally quietly.

“I’m Rachel,” she said. “As you heard.”

“We’re allowed to talk with each other?” Jesse asked.

“Yes, of course,” Rachel said. “Unless we’re being punished.”

“And you can talk to the staff? And they can talk to you?”

“Of course,” Rachel answered. “It would be hard to live here, if I couldn’t.”

“But I thought they didn’t talk to us. Or look at us, even.”

“That’s if you’re with your Owner. Because you’re part of him, see? Then the staff would only speak to him. But if you’re by yourself they’ll speak to you. Unless you’re being punished, as I said.”

“And he called you _Miss_ Rachel…”

She smiled at him. “Well, that’s because I’m important. And so are you, you know. We’re the whole reason for this place. What makes it so special, for the Owners. We’re important to the staff because we’re important to the Owners.”

“…and you _live_ here?” Jesse continued.

“Yes,” Rachel said.

“With…with him?” Jesse tilted his head towards Mr. Adams, behind him.

“Yes,” Rachel said. “Michael is my Owner. I live with him.”

“You live like this…all the _time?_ ”

“Yes…except for when I’m going to school, of course.”

“You go to school?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“UCLA. I’m in my fourth year.”

“You _serious?_ What are you studying?”

“Biophysics.”

“Jesus. _Really?_ ”

“Yes. Why are you so surprised?”

“Oh _I_ don’t know…how many biophysics students live like you do?”

“You’d be surprised. Michael is putting me through school, you know. I couldn’t afford to go, otherwise.”

“How long has he been doing that?”

“Since my first year. He paid for my last year of highschool too. Private school. And he’s going to pay for grad school, as well.”

“You’ve been doing this since you were a teenager?”

Rachel looked down. “Yes.”

“Wow.” Jesse said. “And where’s that accent from? It’s different.”

“South Africa.”

“Wow. How’d you end up here?”

“It’s a long story,” Rachel said. “And I don’t think we know each other well enough for me to go into it. So how about you? Why are you here?”

“Long story,” Jesse said. “And I don’t think we don’t know each other well enough for me to go into it.”

Rachel grinned at him. “Okay…so…Jesse…anything else you want to ask me?”

Robert was at their table, laying down the plates of food and glasses of juice.

“May I get you anything else, Miss Rachel?”

“No thank you, Robert. Jesse? Do you want anything else?”

Jesse looked back and forth between Rachel and Robert. They were waiting. He said, experimentally, “Some ketchup would be nice.”

Rachel nodded at Robert. He nodded back. “I’ll be right back, Mr. Jesse.”

“Thank you.” He looked at Rachel.

She smiled at him. “See? That wasn’t so hard. But just so you know, the staff will speak to you exactly as your Owner tells them to. If he wants them to treat you like a bad slave, or an animal, they will.”

Jesse swallowed. “Good to know.”

Rachel had started eating, with enthusiasm. Robert was back, with the ketchup. “Mr. Jesse.”

Jesse glanced up at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Robert left.

Jesse looked at Rachel. She smiled briefly at him, while chewing. He raised his eyebrows at her. “So yeah…there was something I was curious about…”

She dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “Yes?”

“Do you like, walk around here naked… _all_ the time…?”

***

Walt and Mr. Adams were eating.

“May I ask how long you’ve owned him?” Mr. Adams’ voice was courteous.

Walt looked away from Jesse and the girl with some effort. “Almost seven years,” he said.

“Ah. A well established arrangement then.”

“Yes. You could say so.”

“And does he live with you, full time?”

“Yes he does.”

“And this is the first time you’ve introduced him to our little community?”

“Yes.”

“I’m honoured, Mr. Hermann, that you chose this establishment, for his debut. I’ve been eager to meet the two of you ever since I saw his photograph.”

Walt smiled at him. “You want something from me, Mr. Adams. What is it?”

Mr. Adams laid down his knife and fork. “Please. Call me Michael.”

“Michael.” Walt inclined his head. “William.”

“Thank you…William… Yes. One of the reasons I open my home to certain Owners and their slaves is to be able to meet others of our particular type of persuasion who…because of our circumstances… positions in life if you will…have the means to indulge ourselves completely, but at the same time must be overwhelmingly discreet.“

Michael took a sip of coffee. Looked at Walt. “One needs a community around them. It’s an arid existence otherwise.”

“So you created this whole environment to…”

“I enjoy the company of other Owners. My kind, of course. And I enjoy being surrounded by a selection of top slaves. It’s very hard to find good ones…the ones that I particularly prize. Producing a top tier slave takes a long time. And you have to have the right material, to start with. Many people think they want the life but when it really comes down to it, they’re not suited. Flakes don’t attract me. Or imbeciles. I find that with the best ones, you have to start them young. Raise them in the context of a loving relationship. Like training a first class dog. Take my Rachel for example. Or your delicious young man. Do I have your leave to use his name, by the way?”

“Jesse.”

“Jesse. Yes.”

Michael paused. Continued. “So…anyway…the investment that one puts into true ownership of one of these rare, special slaves is significant. As you probably know. And you are expecting nothing less from them but their whole existence, their whole consciousness of themselves. It’s hard, I would say nearly impossible, to maintain that level of intensity within more than one relationship at any one time, maybe two. And I’m not interested in owning a harem. Or running a slave training academy. And the professionals don’t interest me –the ones doing it for money, I mean. Their energy doesn’t feed me. But I do like being surrounded by variety. Of the best quality of course. Hence my discreet little estate.” He smiled.

Walt smiled back. “Which brings us to…”

Michael leaned forward. “Yes. Your slave. Your Jesse. He has a truly special quality, that one. I could see it immediately. We all could. I understand why you’ve kept him out of sight, all these years. Who could see him and not want him, for themselves?”

Walt looked at the other man coldly. “I trust you’re not asking me to share him?”

“Not at all. I would not be so importunate. But what I’m suggesting, respectfully, is that you _display_ him to us, a little bit. Let us enjoy his presence. I understand you are leaving today. I have some longstanding friends coming in tonight, Owners, with their slaves. We will be arranging a little tableau, a performance among the slaves, to celebrate. May I ask that you delay your departure for one night, and allow your Jesse to participate?”

Walt considered this. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said finally. “For one thing, Jesse is getting caned shortly. He won’t be up to doing much after that. Certainly not a performance in front of strangers.”

“Ah yes. The caning. I understand you’ve engaged Jefferson for that. You couldn’t have selected better. Jefferson is a true artist. He has worked with me for years. He knows exactly how to punish…how to provide the most exquisitely painful experience. It’s truly a delight to watch. But the effects don’t linger unduly. After all, we want our slaves to be functional again, as quickly as possible, don’t we? To minimize the downtime. Jefferson understands this. If anything, I would say his punishments enhance a slave’s subsequent abilities. You’ll likely find that your Jesse will be…more motivated, after his punishment. More eager to please. More owned by you than before. He may welcome the opportunity to display himself for you. As proof of his devotion.”

Walt sipped his coffee. Gazed absently at Jesse and the naked girl, enjoying their breakfast in front of him. The girl was leaning forward towards Jesse confidingly. She was smiling. Touched Jesse’s hand briefly.

Walt put his coffee down. “Very well. I accept your request, Mr. Adams.”

“Michael. Please.”

“Michael. I’ll make a couple of phone calls, re-arrange my flight.”

“That’s delightful news. My guests will be charmed. As will I be, I’m sure. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Walt looked at his watch. “It’s after nine. I suppose I should think about getting Jesse back to our rooms. To prepare him.”

“Why don’t you let Jefferson handle the set up. He knows exactly what to do. In the meantime, I suggest that we make our way to the music room, have Rachel play for us a little, prior to your slave’s punishment. I find that classical music before punishment enhances the experience for both the Owner and the slave. It opens the mind. Removes a layer of…emotional insulation, if you will. Leaves the slave more exposed to…more vulnerable to…the punishment experience. I recommend the practice, if you have the opportunity.”

Walt smiled at him. “You are too kind Michael. I would be delighted to hear your Rachel play. As would Jesse, I’m sure. Thank you.”

***

They were in the music room, facing the grand piano. Mr. Adams and Mr. White were sitting beside each other in the low velvet chairs. Jesse was settled on a pillow at Mr. White’s feet. The other two couples from the breakfast room had also made their way in, settling themselves quietly behind their host.

Rachel was seated at the piano, sunlit by the window. The morning sun sparkled against the gold chains adorning her naked skin. She looked at Mr. Adams, who nodded. Began playing a classical piece in a minor chord, her hands light and subtle on the keys. The quiet melody, tinged with shadow, washed through the room in a series of gentle waves.

Jesse watched Rachel play. She was lost in the music again, her body swaying slightly, her expression distant. He glanced up at Mr. White. His partner was gazing thoughtfully at the naked girl. He had laid a hand lightly on the back of Jesse’s neck. Jesse’s eyes moved to Mr. Adams, sitting close by. Mr. Adams was staring at Jesse, a focused, avid stare.

Jesse drew back slightly, turned his eyes away. He glanced again at Mr. White, to see if he had noticed. Mr. White looked back at him, smiled slightly and returned his gaze to the girl. His fingers started stroking Jesse’s neck.

Rachel played on, the music intensifying, carrying its audience down a rushing, deepening stream. The notes under her hands suddenly opened up a door in the room, an invisible door, but one through which a fresh wind entered, bringing with it the clean, clear bite of the outside air.

Jesse closed his eyes. He understood now why Mr. Adams had recommended this. This music was a cruel mockery…the sound of freedom, while in a few minutes he would be strapped down, his defenseless body subject to a series of painful, humiliating blows at the hands of a stranger.

Because Mr. White wanted it. Had made those arrangements for Jesse, specifically. And was awaiting that moment, with anticipation. His partner.

Jesse felt tears rising. Opened his eyes, looked at Rachel again. If he understood her correctly, she had been part of this scene from at least the same age as he had been when he started dealing drugs. Both of them drawn down in the seductive undertow of a lifestyle stronger than themselves.

And submerged for years.

Jesse’s hand found Mr. White’s hand, as it rested on his neck. He placed his fingers over it. Turned his head, looked up at his partner. Mr. White met his gaze, regarding him through his glasses. They observed each other quietly.

The piano had fallen silent.

Rachel gazed expectantly at Mr. Adams, her hands resting on the keys. Mr. Adams looked at his watch.

“I think it’s time that your slave was prepared for his punishment, William. Unless you would like to delay, to enjoy a bit more music perhaps? I love Rachel’s interpretation of Chopin. So hauntingly pure.”

Mr. White glanced at his watch also. “No, I think we’ll keep to the schedule. That _was_ lovely. A perfect prelude to punishment, as you said. Thank you,” he said to Mr. Adams. Turned to Rachel, nodded to her. “And my thanks to your slave, Michael.”

Rachel bowed her head modestly.

“You're very welcome,” Mr. Adams replied. “And I completely understand your reluctance to delay. I envy you the sight, it will be most exquisite, I’m sure…” he paused, expectantly. Jesse darted a glance at him. Was that bastard angling for an invitation to _watch?_

It wasn’t forthcoming.

“Yes,” said Mr. White, absently. “Well, let’s get going. Come along Jesse.” He rose, holding Jesse’s leash. Jesse rose also. Looked at Rachel, sitting at the piano. She returned his gaze quietly. Then looked down at her hands.

“Yes…well…” Mr. Adams had risen, also. He seemed reluctant to let them go. “I’ll send Allyson to you later this afternoon. She’ll help your slave get ready for this evening.”

“Who is Allyson?”

“My Domme. She arranges matters for our slaves. Your Jesse will be in good hands with her.”

Jesse stared at Mr. White in disbelief. They were _staying?_

“Thank you,” said Mr. White. He turned away, walking from the room. Jesse followed after him, silently fuming.

***

They were back in their suite.

Jesse stared at the spanking bench, placed carefully in the centre of the living room, strategically distant from other furniture or obstructions.

Mr. White unlocked the leash from his collar. “I suggest you take this opportunity to use the bathroom.” he said quietly.

Jesse glanced at him briefly, then nodded. Walked to the bathroom, his legs wooden.

After relieving himself, he stood at the bathroom counter, washing his hands. Met his own eyes in the mirror. Stared at himself for a moment.

He was doing this.

Jesse was abruptly nauseated. He stumbled over to the toilet and crouched over it, heaving. Pushed his fingers down his throat and vomited up his breakfast. Knelt over the bowl, gasping.

Flushed the toilet. Got to his feet, rinsed his mouth out under the sink. Leaned his hands on the counter, his head lowered, breathing deliberately. Looked up and met his eyes again, in the mirror.

A young man with untidy blonde hair, a strained, pale face and shadowed blue eyes stared back.

Jesse looked away. Went to re-join his partner.

He heard men’s voices from the living room. Mr. White and Jefferson. Jesse walked towards them and halted uncertainly in the doorway.

The two men were standing around the spanking bench. They turned towards Jesse. “Ah, Jesse,” Mr. White said. “There you are. Jefferson and I were just speaking about the importance of selecting the right cane. Would you please fetch me the canes that are hanging in our closet? Jefferson will explain their various attributes and then we'll select one for you.”

Jesse stared at him, frozen.

Mr. White frowned at him. “Go on now, Jesse,” he said.

Jesse abruptly turned and went to the closet. Opened the door and observed the large variety of discipline instruments hanging neatly on the rack. The canes were all on the far right. He grabbed the whole bunch and took them back to the living room.

There was a dark wooden desk in one corner of the room. Mr. White gestured to it. Jesse went over and laid the canes neatly on the desk's polished surface. He noticed his hands were trembling, slightly.

Mr. White and Jefferson had come up behind him. Mr. White picked up a thin, stiff cane, slightly over two feet long, consisting of a light, flexible rod of white polymer, with a red leather braided handle. He hefted it lightly in his hand. “What about this one?”

“I don’t recommend it, for a beginner,” Jefferson said. “The Delrin delivers a fairly harsh, deep blow. If you’ve only used a belt on him so far, his bottom won’t be ready for that yet…won’t fully appreciate the subtleties of the heavier punishment. I suggest that we start him off on a traditional rattan cane.”

“Can you describe the qualities of the rattan cane?”

“Of course. The rattan is a very flexible cane.” Jefferson picked up a long, thin rattan cane from the desk and bent it demonstratively into a circle. “It delivers a sharp sting and provides a strong impact to the flesh with a fairly light blow. It achieves very precise stripes and the bruising on most bottoms is minimal.” Jefferson turned away and swished it through the air. There was a whistling sound. “It also produces this interesting sound. The caning recipient hears this whistle behind them, prior to the impact. Heightens the experience.”

“Hmm.” Mr. White took the cane from Jefferson and swished it experimentally through the air. “Very well then. This cane is fairly long. I see there are differing lengths of rattan here. Is there a specific length you would recommend?”

“It would be helpful to me if I could see your slave’s bottom,” Jefferson said. “Bottoms are highly individual you know, and certain bottoms are more suited to certain qualities of cane. I could better gauge what’s best for your slave if I could see it.”

“Of course,” Mr. White replied. “Jesse, could you please bend over the desk? And raise the kilt above your waist please.”

Jesse bent and laid himself over the cool wooden surface of the desk. He lifted the leather kilt up. Felt the brush of air against his bare bottom. Closed his eyes.

“Very nice,” Jefferson was saying. “Good tone and texture. An optimal mix of plumpness and firmness. And with these saucy, rounded cheeks. A fine bottom, Mr. Hermann.”

“Yes,” said Mr. White. “I’ve certainly found it to be so. So which cane would you recommend for him?”

“It’s interesting,” Jefferson continued. “I can see he’s faintly marked…you spanked him yesterday, I take it?”

“Yes.”

“And yet the skin is so fine…delicate, a virgin skin, practically. Often a well disciplined slave begins to show signs of their use…the skin on the bottom toughens. How often do you discipline him, Mr. Hermann?”

“Reasonably often, I would say,” Mr. White replied. “A combination of the belt, the paddle and my hand. But I’m careful with his skin afterwards. I treat it you know, with aftercare lotion. And I expect him to maintain it regularly, himself.”

“Very wise. May I…touch?”

“You may.”

Jesse felt an unfamiliar hand on his bottom, rubbing and patting his cheeks with an informed, impersonal touch, much as a groom might pat the flank of a horse. “Very nice. This will welt up nicely. A near perfect bottom, actually,” Jefferson said. “You are fortunate, Mr. Hermann.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Well, at this point I recommend what we call the senior English cane,” Jefferson said. He picked it up and handed it to Mr. White. “It’s thirty inches long, with a diameter of five-sixteenths of an inch. This is an optimal cane for disciplinary purposes –the shorter canes are more for mixed use or ad hoc sessions…often used for pleasure or a more casual punishment, as it were. And it sounds like he has taken enough punishment that he could graduate to the senior cane –his bottom will register it as the next stage of severity.”

Mr. White swished the cane back and forth. Jesse heard it whistle behind his ear. “Very well,” Mr. White said. “I will go with your recommendation. Shall we put him up on the bench, now?”

“Yes.”

“Jesse, can you please remove your kilt?”

Jesse straightened up from the desk. He undid the pin and the straps at the kilt’s waist, unwrapped himself from the leather garment and hung it over the back of the desk chair. Stood quietly in front of the two men, his hands at his sides.

Jefferson was looking at the chastity device on Jesse’s cock. Mr. White followed the direction of his gaze. “Will we have to remove that?”

Jefferson glanced at the spanking bench, turned back to Jesse. “No, it will be fine. Those containers are very durable, can be leaned on with impunity. In fact, it will encourage him to keep his bottom tilted out, which is actually beneficial, for our purposes.”

“Alright then. I guess we’re ready to get started. Jesse, can you please climb up on the spanking bench?”

Jesse slowly approached the padded bench. He knelt on the low, quilted stool, and bent himself over the bench’s gently tilted surface. His bottom was now raised over his head. He felt the cool smooth leather of the bench’s padded surface against his naked skin, with his stomach and torso firmly supported. It was surprisingly comfortable.

Jefferson knelt beside him, securing his arms to the sides of the bench with wide leather straps. He tightened the straps snugly. Then tightened another set of straps around the back of Jesse’s thighs. Tightened a third set around his ankles.

Turned to Mr. White. “Would you like me to secure a strap around his waist?”

“Do you recommend it?”

“I do. He’s new to the cane, will likely be surprised by the sensation. It can be exquisitely painful, if one’s not used to it. He’ll probably struggle to move away –often, they can’t help themselves, you know. You don’t want him getting out of position. It’s best to keep his bottom as still as possible.”

“Alright then. You may strap him down.”

Jefferson strapped a wide band of leather around Jesse’s waist, further restricting his movement.

“There we go. Now before we proceed to the actual caning, Mr. Hermann, I recommend warming him up a bit. A warmed up bottom is far less likely to bruise or experience breakage of the skin. I understand you will have him on display tonight, so minimizing the damage and maximizing the decorative quality of the welts would be desirable.”

“Yes, I agree. You may warm him up.”

Jesse suddenly felt hands on his bottom, strongly massaging the cheeks, the fingers like iron bars, digging in. He winced, involuntarily.

“This gets the blood flowing,” Jefferson said. He continued the intense massage for a few more moments. “See how it’s a little pink now. That’s good. Now we’ll give him a few strokes.”

Jefferson backed up. Jesse tensed. He heard a soft swish of air behind him, no whistle. Then the cane landed lightly on his bottom and bounced off. There was a slight sting. “This is called a scoop stroke,” Jefferson said. “You see how you start the swing, from a bit underneath, like so, to scoop up the bottom.” This cane swished up against Jesse’s bottom again. “You start off with a light impact,” Jefferson said. “You see how I’m just flicking my wrist slightly, here. And keep your grip loose. A bit like holding a tennis racket. This grip is in keeping with the flexibility of the cane and will allow you to transfer exactly the amount of force you intend. Think of the cane like an extension of your hand.”

“Yes, I see,” came Mr. White’s voice. He sounded fascinated, just the way he always did when he learned something new. Jesse silently rolled his eyes.

“And you want to keep the strokes exactly parallel,” Jefferson continued. The cane switched Jesse’s bottom again. “If the body is north-south, the strokes should be exactly east-west. The strokes should be very controlled. You won’t see it so much with these warm up strokes, but it becomes very important for the punishment strokes. You want to have even, parallel strokes, like the rungs of a ladder.” The cane hit Jesse’s bottom again, a little harder. Jesse winced.

“I’m going to increase the intensity a little bit now,” Jefferson said. “You want to build the strokes up gradually until the skin is a light red. It’s called layering.” The cane hit Jesse again, a little harder. And then again. And again. It now felt like he was getting a moderate spanking, with the paddle. Jesse was wincing slightly, but overall, this was manageable. He'd been worrying about this too much. He started to relax.

“You see how I’m careful to hit his bottom with the full cane, not to extend the tip beyond the farther cheek,” Jefferson said. “You don’t want to lash his side. You also want the cane to land across his bottom as evenly as possible. Keep in mind that there will always be more force at the end of the cane. If you don’t take that into consideration, you will end up with uneven welting.” The cane struck Jesse again. The sting was stronger. Jesse moved his bottom, involuntarily.

“Because of the uneven impact, you want to vary your strokes, backhand and forehand.” Jefferson delivered a light backhand stroke to Jesse’s bottom, the cane landing on him in the reverse direction. “That will ensure the best coverage, to both sides. But be careful to keep all your strokes very controlled. The backhand actually delivers a harder blow.”

Jesse’s bottom was starting to smart. He could feel the nerves jumping.

“He’s fairly warmed up now,” Jefferson said. “I’m going to tap him a bit, and then he’ll be ready.” He started flicking his wrist in a quick, light motion, tapping Jesse’s bottom rapidly with the end of the cane. The taps felt like a rapid fire of insect bites, itching and stinging. Jesse made a sound of discomfort. He started to wriggle.

“He’s warmed up now, Mr. Hermann,” Jefferson said. “Would you like to have a word with him, before I begin the caning proper?”

“Yes,” Mr. White said. “But before I do that, how many strokes do you generally recommend?”

“We traditionally administer them in sets of six,” Jefferson said. “I recommend to start out with six strokes and see how he does. Then you can add on additional sets as you feel is appropriate.”

“Very well, then,” said Mr. White. “We’ll start off with six. Jesse, before we begin, do you have anything to say for yourself? Please address me as Sir.”

“No Sir.”

“Do you understand why you’re being punished?”

“Yes Sir.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I left the restaurant without your permission, Sir.”

“And not only that, Jesse. You defied me. I asked you specifically to stay put, and you defied me. What do you have to say to that?”

Jesse swallowed. “That was wrong of me Sir. I’m sorry.”

“Yes. Sorry will describe you very nicely, after this. Do you agree you deserve to be punished, for your bad behaviour?”

“Yes Sir,” Jesse whispered.

“So what do you say, then?”

“Please punish me, Sir.”

“Very good. You may proceed, Jefferson.”

“Yes Mr. Hermann.”

There was a pause. Jefferson backed up, positioning himself carefully. Then he laid the cane lightly across Jesse’s bottom, determining the location of impact. Mr. White was silent.

Jesse waited tensely, unable to see the two men behind him, his eyes open blindly. He was holding his breath.

Jefferson raised his arm. The cane whistled through the air. Landed on the bare flesh of Jesse’s bottom with a white hot, screaming intensity.

Jesse cried out.

 _"Ow!  Ohmigod!”_   He was writhing.  The shocking pain began radiating through his bottom. He gasped.

Jefferson looked at Walt. Walt glanced at his struggling partner. Nodded at Jefferson.

Jefferson laid the cane lightly across Jesse’s bottom, positioning the next blow. Then raised his arm. The cane whistled. Another burning strike.

_“Ow!  Fuck!”_

Walt walked around to the front of the spanking bench. Looked down at Jesse’s contorted face. Stared at him, eyes hard. “No swearing,” he snapped. “Control yourself.”

Jesse eyes were watering. He glared up at Walt, his teeth clenched. Walt looked away, nodded again at Jefferson.

Jefferson nodded back. Positioned the cane on Jesse’s bottom again. Raised his arm.

_Whistle. Crack._

_“Ow!”_   Jesse writhed, struggling against the leather bindings. Walt stayed facing him, taking in his expression, fascinated. Jesse noticed this and turned his face away. The agonizing after sensation of the blow was crawling through him again. He shifted helplessly against the straps, moaned.

“What’s happening to him right now?” Walt asked Jefferson curiously.

“Caning produces two forms of pain,” Jefferson said. “There is the initial impact of the blow, which creates a sharp, stinging pain, as the nerves in the impact area are compressed. Then as the cane lifts, those nerves de-compress and return to their original size. This creates a second, deeper pain, which is more like a searing, burning sensation which radiates outwards from the point of impact. Your slave will feel that deeper pain move through his whole bottom, with a shocklike effect dissipating through the rest of his body. I’m told it’s extremely unpleasant.”

“How interesting.” Walt was smiling.

“Yes. It’s possible, actually, to manipulate the sensations of both types of pain. If the cane is held down on the bottom after the strike, it prolongs the initial stinging sensation. Then you can control the rate of decompression and bring on the deep searing burn while the first stinging pain is still lingering. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

“Please do.” Walt leaned forward. “Look at me, Jesse,” he said to his partner. “I want to see your face while this is happening.”

Jesse didn’t respond.

Walt grabbed his chin, tilted his face towards him. “Look at me Jesse,” he said. The smile had left his face. “Don’t ignore me.”

Jesse glared at him. Walt held his gaze warningly. Then looked up briefly, nodded at Jefferson. Looked back at Jesse.

Jefferson carefully positioned the cane. Raised his arm. Brought the cane down with a sharp crack on Jesse’s bottom. But this time, he didn’t lift it. Pressed the cane against the point of impact and held it there.

 _“Ow!  OW! ..Ohmigod…_ “ Jesse’s eyes widened incredulously. Then he was writhing, keening hoarsely. “... _Jesus! That HURTS…please_ …” His blue eyes stared at Walt with amazed agony.

Walt stared back at him, transfixed. Whispered to Jefferson, while holding Jesse’s gaze. “Do that again. Hold it down.”

Jefferson complied.

 _“OW!"_  

Jesse struggled. He began futilely trying to remove his bottom from the path of the cane. He saw Walt’s entranced expression.  Turned his face away, furiously.

“Again,” Walt whispered.

Jefferson positioned the cane. Raised his arm. “Wait,” Walt said. “Look at me Jesse. Look into my eyes.”

Jesse’s face stayed turned away. Walt bent closer. _“Jesse. Look at me.”_   Nudged his chin.

Jesse turned his face towards Walt’s. His eyes were blazing. _“What is it?”_   he spat.

“I want you looking at me while you feel the pain.” Walt said. “I want to see what's happening.” He smiled at Jesse encouragingly.

Jesse was breathing hard.  His eyes narrowed at Walt's smile.  Walt looked up briefly, nodded at Jefferson.  Looked back at Jesse.

The cane descended.

_“OW!”_

Jefferson held the cane down against Jesse’s bottom.

 _“OW! Ow –Shit!”_ Jesse broke eye contact. Writhed.

Walt frowned. He grabbed Jesse’s chin. “I told you not to swear. I expect you to have better control over yourself than that. Apologize.”

Jesse was panting. He didn’t respond. Walt’s fingers tightened on his chin. “Jesse.”

Jesse’s eyes met his abruptly. _“What?”_ He was watching Walt with angry attention.

Walt gazed at him, arrested.  Jesse was staring at him closely, like he was looking right inside him.  But that look was icy cold.  

Walt felt his own eyes hardening.  Then he repeated, “Apologize. To me and to Jefferson. For your rudeness, just now.”

Jesse watched him, silent.  Walt looked at him again. Then he blinked, disconcerted.  Jesse's eyes, fixed on him, were filled with hatred.  He was gazing at Walt with the intimate, inimical stare of an enemy.  There was no evidence, no acknowledgement of any other connection between them, other than that, in their blue depths.   

Then Jesse replied in a low voice, “You know…what…Fuck…YOU…you sick _asshole_ …And fuck _him_ too, that slimy fuck,” referring to Jefferson. “To hell with both of you. And _you_..." his eyes narrowing further at Walt. "...watching me like I'm nothing but a _lab rat_...I hope you rot and die!”

He turned his face away, shutting Walt out.  Pulled uselessly on the restraints.

Walt stood silently, a painful, icy anger coalescing in his belly. He looked at Jefferson. The other man shrugged.

Walt stalked around to the other end of the bench. Stood beside Jefferson, looked down at Jesse’s bottom. Six thin, pink, evenly spaced, parallel welts were rising neatly.

“What do you think?” Walt asked the other man.

Jefferson shrugged again. “He could take another set,” he said. “We have room here, see?” he indicated the smooth spaces on Jesse’s bottom between the welts. “And you can cane over the existing welts too. He can probably take a second set on top of the first, before the skin breaks.”

“If we do that, will he be too sore, to perform tonight?” Walt asked.

Jefferson pursed his lips. “Hard to say. You can never tell for sure how someone will react. And he _is_ a first timer. But he’s quite a firecracker. I wasn’t going _that_ easy on him. Normally first timers are cringing by now. Begging and pleading, you know. He’s just spitting mad. I would say that…this one will do what he’s signed up for. Even if he’s bleeding. Just to prove something. Get back at you, maybe.”

Walt nodded. “I think you’re right. Okay then. Give him a second set. And then…a third set, on top of the first. And depending on his attitude at that point, we may proceed with a _fourth_ set, on top of the second. I’ll leave it to you, to gauge if we should stop before that. And stop if we break the skin, of course.”

“Yes Mr. Hermann.” Jefferson was sizing up Jesse’s bottom. He laid the cane on an unwelted band of skin, readying his eye.

“Wait a moment,” Walt said.

He walked around the bench to where Jesse’s head lay. Jesse looked at him, breathing hard.

“You heard what we’re going to do,” Walt said briefly. “You brought that on yourself. My only advice to you now is…bear the pain as best you can and control your tongue. I will expect an apology _and_ a sincere thank you for your punishment, after the third set is completed. Otherwise, you will receive a fourth set. Are we clear?”

Jesse watched Mr. White’s face as his partner said these words to him. He saw no warmth there, no affection, no concern...nothing but hard anger and determination.

Jesse wet his lips. Then answered.

“Fuck you,” he replied in a low voice. “I’m not giving you what you want.” Held Mr. White’s eyes.

Walt felt a sinking coldness inside.  Then he said to Jesse, “You’ve just been pretending to belong to me, haven’t you? It’s been a game to you, after all. All it takes is a test like this and we both see the truth. You’ve been just going along with what I asked for, pretending. Pretending for your own purposes, whatever they are.”

Jesse stared at him wordlessly.

“Those words you said to me, yesterday,” Walt said. “About how everything you did was for me. That I’m first with you. That you will obey. That you’re mine...They’re not holding up right now.”

Jesse was silent.

“Well?” Walt asked him. “Do you have anything to say about that?”

“It doesn’t matter what I say,” Jesse answered. “You’ll believe what you’re going to believe. Nothing I could say will ever be enough for you anyway.”

Walt leaned towards him. “I believe this…” he said, his voice tight. “That you _do_ want to be mine…and it never had anything to do with what _I_ wanted. You _wanted_ to be owned right from day one…you needed it…you’re built that way…and I just happened to cross your path. You _found_ me, you _selected_ me, just as much as I found you. You  _nee_ _d_ me to do this. So why are you fighting it?”

Jesse snorted. “Like I said…you’ll believe what you'll believe. And if _that’s_ the only question you're asking me, you don’t deserve an answer anyway.”

Walt straightened. “I will lash you,” he said, quietly.

Jesse met his eyes. “Go ahead.”

Walt looked at him coldly. “By the time we’re through here, you’ll be saying those words again. I _will_ be first with you. I will be the _only_ thing in your mind. Pleasing me will be the only thing you think about. And you’ll be _begging me_. To own you.”

Jesse laughed. “You might _hear_ that sure, but you won't believe it.  Will it be me or the pain talking?”

“Do you actually think there’s a difference between the two?” Walt asked him.

Jesse stared at him bitterly. “Well I guess that’s something _you’ll_ never know. And you know what? You’ll never get the answer from me.”

Walt leaned close to him again. Whispered, _“I will break you down. Until I get what I want.”_

Jesse whispered back. “Then you will get _shit._ ”

“No."  Walt's voice was sad.  "I'll get that I did that, at least.”

Jesse’s chest was heaving, painfully. “Then if _that’s_ all that matters to you, asshole, go ahead. _Break me_. Enjoy yourself while you’re at it.”

Walt stared at him.  Both he and Jesse were still.

Then he replied, his tone becoming mild, “Thank you, Jesse, I will.” Bent and kissed Jesse’s forehead. Looked at him. “And you’ll enjoy it too. It’s what you were made for.”

_(“Mr. White…you’re scaring me.”_

_“…Am I?”_

_“Yeah. Are you really such a psycho?”_

_“Is that how I’m coming across?”_

_“Um…yeah.”_

_“No…I’m not, Jesse. You just made me mad, that’s all. I’ll get over it.”_

_“But…did you really mean those things? I mean, Jesus, it sounded like you wanted to destroy me.”_

_“…No. No I didn’t, Jesse. I don’t. It’s just a story. Dialogue, right? I got carried away.”_

_“Would you ever? Want to break me like that I mean.”_

_“No. Of course not.”_

_“…Okay…”_

_“Do you want me to go on?”_

_“Uh yeah…don’t leave me strapped to that bench…It’s got to end better than that, right?”_

_“Sure…”)_

Walt walked over to the arrangement of arm chairs. Picked one up and placed it in a good viewing spot. Sat back. Jesse had turned his head, watching him.

“Go ahead, Jefferson,” Walt said. “Next set.”


	28. Chapter 28

“How hard do you want me to go, Mr. Hermann?” asked Jefferson.

“You can go a bit harder,” Walt said. “In respect of his insolence. And defiance. We need to understand there is a price to be paid for these things, don’t we Jesse?” His eyes flicked to his partner.

Jesse was staring at him. “Fuck you,” he mouthed silently.

Walt smiled back. “Increase the level of pain,” he said to Jefferson.

“Yes Mr. Hermann.” Jefferson raised his arm. The cane whistled, the sound shriller this time.

_Crack._

Jesse’s face contorted. His mouth opened silently. He put his head down, his body straining silently on the bench.

Jefferson held the cane down against his bottom for a few more moments, then lifted it. Jesse writhed. He turned his face away.

Walt was watching him closely. Nodded at Jefferson. Jefferson waited a few more seconds, then lifted his arm.

_Crack._

Jesse’s body jerked under the lash. He was still silent, his face turned away from Walt. There was a pause while Jefferson held the cane against his bottom. Walt could see Jesse’s hands clutching the sides of the bench. His knuckles were white.

Walt nodded at Jefferson. Jefferson held up a finger _(wait)_. A few more seconds passed. Jesse was breathing harshly, the sound loud in the silent room. Jefferson lifted his arm.

_Crack._

Jesse’s body jerked again, his muscles flexing as he moved helplessly against the restraints. His chest was heaving, and Walt could see sweat start to shine on the satiny skin of his back.

Walt abruptly got up, walked over. His own breath was coming rapidly and his cock was painfully hard. He reached out a hand to caress Jesse’s gleaming back, then hesitated.

He walked over to stand beside Jefferson. Regarded Jesse’s bottom.

The three new welts were spaced precisely between the others, a slightly darker pink, laddering the top half of Jesse’s bottom. There were now only thin strips of smooth, unmarked flesh between them.

“You _are_ precise, Jefferson,” Walt said. “Very impressive.”

“Thank you Mr. Hermann.” Jefferson replied.

“How much practice does it take to get to this level of control?” Walt asked curiously.

Jefferson smiled. “Well, I’ve been doing this for near on thirty years,” he said.

“Goodness,” said Walt. “How do you work? To people book ahead to see you, like a dentist?”

“Yes they do,” Jefferson replied. “I typically book several months in advance, for maintenance sessions. And of course Owners book for the punishment sessions as well. Bring their slaves in specifically for those.”

“How often do you recommend a maintenance session?” Walt asked.

“For a full service maintenance caning, I recommend every three to four months. No more than that. You don’t want your slave’s bottom getting _too_ used to it. And leave space during the year for the punishment canings, of course.”

“What’s the difference between a maintenance and a punishment caning?”

“Primarily the level of cooperation on the part of the slave,” Jefferson said. “With a maintenance caning, the Owner and the slave usually pre-agree upon a certain number of strokes and level of intensity. And the slave isn’t usually restrained. They generally just bend over a bench or a chair. Sometimes grab their ankles. Count the strokes themselves, you know. Sometimes they request more strokes at the end of the pre-determined number, if they feel the need for more maintenance.”

“I see. And for a punishment caning?”

“A traditional punishment caning is fully dictated by the Owner. The slave has no say in the number of strokes or level of intensity. And being restrained is more usual. It can be beneficial for the slave to feel helpless under the lash -bound by their Owner’s decree and at their mercy as it were. Also, the level of pain is usually higher, and it may be harder for the slave to maintain the punishment position voluntarily.”

“How often can a punishment caning occur?” asked Walt.

“That depends on the strictness of the Owner,” Jefferson replied. “I’ve seen some Owners and slaves in here every few weeks, for punishment. I don’t recommend that though, as a practice. A punishment caning is an extreme experience. The slave should understand it is reserved for special occasions and fear it accordingly. They shouldn’t begin to take it for granted. Some Owners tally up relevant punishable offences throughout the year and get them taken care of all at once. Or they will bring their slaves in for something that can’t really be dealt with any other way. Usually an offence like that is a matter of the slave accepting their punishment, or choosing that moment to exit the Owner-slave relationship. That’s the approach I recommend, for a punishment caning.”

“I see…” said Walt, thoughtfully. “And what are your recommendations on caning at home?”

“There’s nothing wrong with doing it yourself, if you have the aptitude,” said Jefferson. “Caning is an important traditional tool of domestic discipline. I’ll show you the basics, if you like. Not on your own slave, of course. I recommend practicing on a pillow, to get the stroking correct, before you begin on a human bottom. Once you’ve got the stroke right, you can start switching him with a shorter cane, for maintenance or bad behaviour. I’ll provide you with a Governess cane, to take with you. That’s a shorter, lighter cane, easy to pack and handle, still provides a sharp sting. He’ll know he’s getting disciplined, for sure. And it will give you a chance to practice, before moving up to the senior cane. You can still book him to come back here, for a full caning.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the offer. Maybe later today, while Jesse’s recovering, you can show me.”

“Yes, we could make arrangements for that.”

“Thank you,” Walt paused. Gestured to Jesse’s waiting bottom. “Well, I suppose we should finish the set.”

Jefferson nodded. “The next three lashes will fall on the most sensitive part of his bottom –starting with the plump part here and then right underneath… that’s called the sit spot. And then you see the crease here, where the bottom meets the thighs—that’s called the gluteal sulcus or crease. It’s a very sensitive spot…there will be a lot of pain there. And the top of his thighs, of course. Since you are moving right into a third set, and this _is_ a punishment caning…”

“Yes.”

“…I suggest we start farther down –on the thighs, around this area, and work up. That will leave some room on the sit spot and the gluteal crease, and we can concentrate the final set there. That will end the punishment very memorably for him.”

“I see. And what if he is so unfortunate as to earn himself a fourth set?”

“Well at that point you’ll be caning over existing welts. I’ll review what we’re dealing with, select the areas that can be hit hardest without breaking the skin, and work over the whole bottom, ending at the gluteal crease.”

“Very well, Jefferson, that sounds like a plan. Let me check in with Jesse for a moment and then you may proceed.” Walt walked around the bench to where Jesse’s head lay. He crouched down beside Jesse’s face, looking at him.

“Well you’ve heard what you’re in for, Jesse. Do you have anything to say for yourself at this point? Any requests or…apologies, perhaps? A sincere apology could possibly influence my mind in your favour.”

Jesse stared back at him, eyes hard. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “I have something to say. You’re a fucking twisted _asshole_..and it’s _bullshit_ that I anything I say will change your mind. I’m not begging you…you’ve been looking forward to this for _months_ , haven’t you, you sick fuck? Waiting for any excuse at all. So fuck… _you_.”

Walt straightened up. Looked at Jefferson. The other man shrugged, shook his head.

“You may continue, Jefferson,” Walt said. “And don’t hold back. Let’s see what he can take.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Hermann? My read on this one is that he can take quite a bit.”

“Yes,” said Walt. “Take him to the very limits of pain. That’s what he’s asked for.”

***

_Crack._

Jefferson had completed the second set. The final three blows had started at the tops of Jesse’s thighs and worked up the lower half of Jesse’s bottom, with the final strike landing squarely on the sit spot. Jefferson had avoided striking the crease between Jesse’s bottom and thighs.

Jesse was panting, hands clutching the sides of the bench, his eyes closed. He could feel the muscles of his thighs and bottom quivering. His body was straining uncontrollably against the tight leather straps, as the shocks of the after pain rolled through him. Despite his best efforts, he could feel his bottom wriggling back and forth, no doubt a rewarding sight for that bastard, Mr. White.

Jefferson had followed Mr. White’s directions faithfully. These last three strikes had been considerably harder than the others, landing on Jesse’s thighs and bottom with shocking force. The pain had been…indescribable. Just as Rachel’s music had opened a mental door to another level of awareness, so did this pain open a door.

But this door didn't let in a fresh, life giving wind. This door opened onto an airless, icy void. A black vacuum, sucking Jesse towards it.

The shock waves of agony dissipated, leaving behind a throbbing, pulsating hurt. Jesse’s bottom was now a live, injured thing. This misery too was almost unbearable. Jesse tried hard not to moan, to keep his silence, to deny Mr. White the satisfaction of hearing his voice. He twisted, clenching his teeth and pressing his face into the padded leather of the bench.

The bastard was kneeling beside him again.

“Jesse.” Mr. White’s voice was quiet.

Jesse ignored him.

“Jesse,” Mr. White said again. “Look at me.”

Jesse ignored him, keeping his eyes closed. He heard Mr. White’s steps retreating. His voice from a distance. “I’ll be right back.”

A silence. Jesse lay with his cheek pressed against the bench, trying to get his breath back under control.

Then Mr. White was back. Jesse heard the rustle of his clothes as he knelt down. Suddenly, a cold, wet towel was wiping his face. Jesse opened his eyes.

His partner was watching him, his eyes grave.

“The next set is going to be worse,” Mr. White said. “Jefferson is going to go as hard on you as he possibly can, without drawing blood. If you give me the words I want right now, I'll forgive the rest of your punishment. You’ve taken the pain well, and I respect that.”

“What are these words you want so much?” Jesse asked him tonelessly.

“That you’re sorry for defying me. That you want only to please me. And that…I own you, Jesse. Like you _wanted_.”

“I could say that to you, sure,” Jesse whispered. “But that would be a _lie_. You want me to lie to you, Mr. White?”

Mr. White’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying right now,” he replied. “You’re lying to both yourself and to me.”

Jesse watched him, silent.

Mr. White rose. “Fine then. Maybe the pain will get through to you where I can’t.” He raised his voice. “You may continue, Jefferson. As hard as you can.”

“Yes Mr. Hermann.”

Mr. White’s eyes were on Jesse’s. “I’ll meet you on the other side,” he said.

***

There was a sharp, high whistle.

The cane descended heavily on the delicate gluteal crease, cutting into the sensitive flesh just under the curve of Jesse’s bottom.

Jesse cried out, the sound torn out of him in spite of himself. His body jerked against the restraints like it had been shocked by a bolt of electricity.

Jefferson held the cane down for a few seconds. Jesse cried out again, his voice ragged. Jefferson lifted the cane, waited.

Jesse was writhing, moaning brokenly. He lifted his head, pressed it down again against the bench. His hands were clenching and unclenching helplessly.

“What happened?” asked Walt.

“There’s a nerve close to the surface, there,” replied Jefferson neutrally. “It’s called the perforating cutaneous nerve. The cane landed right on it. Compressed it, you see.”

“I see.”

“I’m going to put the next strike right beside that first one,” said Jefferson. He raised his arm.

The cane descended.

Jesse cried out. And then cried out again. His agonized voice filled the sunny, carpeted room.

“Oh _God_ …” Jesse was gasping. “ _Oh God…please_ …”

Jefferson glanced at Walt. Walt nodded at him.

Jefferson flipped the cane smoothly into a backhand stroke. The cane descended again, lashing Jesse’s bottom just below the red welt of the first strike.

Jesse was crying out, moaning again, writhing against the bench.

“That’s a really bad spot,” said Walt.

“Yes it is,” Jefferson agreed. “I’ve had people faint on me, when they get hit there.”

“Interesting.”

Jesse heard their voices from a distance. He was breathing desperately, his muscles quivering. He felt tears rising, bit his tongue painfully. He was _not_ going to cry in front of Mr. White. Not this time. Not ever again.

Mr. White’s voice. “Where are you hitting him next?”

“Same spot. Remember, we were concentrating the third set on this area of the bottom. I was saving it.”

Jesse heard the high whistle. “Oh _God_ —“ _(Crack)_

He was shrieking, baying like an animal. The door in his mind had opened wide and the black vacuum was gaping.

He was throbbing, moaning.  The cold towel on his face.

“We’re almost there, Jesse. Only two more.” A hand caressing his hair.

Jesse jerked his head away. The hand dropped.

“Go ahead, Jefferson.” There was a dark note in Mr. White’s voice that Jesse hadn’t heard before.

The cane descended.

Jesse cried out again, writhed against the restraints, moaned. He wasn’t even thinking about keeping still anymore, keeping quiet. What was the point?

“I’m going to put the last one on top of the first,” said Jefferson. “If that’s alright with you.”

“Sure.” Mr. White sounded matter-of-fact. Like he was getting a necessary piece of business out of the way. Jesse clenched his teeth. _Bastard._

Heard the whistle, behind him.

 _Crack._ A white hot slice, right on top of the first throbbing welt. The nerve lighting on fire.

Jefferson held the cane down, prolonging the agony. And then the deep, flaring burn.

All the breath left Jesse’s body. He arched up against the bench, his hands clutching its sides. The only thing left to him was pain, stretching out in an infinite, silent space. The vacuum had sucked him through, into itself.

Eventually he heard a voice like a harsh caw, broken, unrecognizable. It was his.

“Jesse.” Mr. White’s voice. “Jesse.”

Jesse was spinning.

“Jesse.” Mr. White’s hand on his cheek. “Jesse. Come back to me.”

Jesse’s eyes opened slowly. He looked at Mr. White’s face, so close to him, the familiar, narrow green gaze.

“What are your words to me now, Jesse?” Mr. White whispered.

Jesse stared at him.

Incredibly, Mr. White eyes were tender. Caressing.

_(You’re beautiful)_

“Jesse. What are your words?”

 _“I hate you.”_ Jesse said.

Mr. White drew back.  Then he looked up. “Jefferson, can you please give us a moment?”

“Yes sir.” Jefferson left the room.

Mr. White's voice was strained.  Said to Jesse, “You’ve been daring me.  Throughout this punishment. Challenging me. For what reason?”

Jesse didn’t respond.  He looked at Mr. White silently.

Mr. White continued. “If you hate me so much, _why are you here?_  "  He leaned towards Jesse.  "Say the words to me right now.  Tell me to release you, and I will.  You can go right now.  I won’t come after you.  I’ll leave you alone, to go on with the rest of your life. You won’t have to see me, deal with me, ever again.”

“I should, shouldn’t I?" Jesse replied. Said to his partner, "I should have gone, long before this.”

Mr. White closed his eyes briefly. “I will lash you again,” he said. “You earned a fourth set, for your defiance, earlier. You told me you weren't going to beg. Well I’m not begging either. So that’s your choice. You go. Or you stay. And be lashed.”

Jesse was shaking. So this was it, then. He opened his mouth.

“But before you go,” Walt said, “I want to say something to you.”

He stopped. Jesse’s blue eyes, watching.

“I love you,” Walt said.

Jesse stared.

“I’ve never said that to you before,” Walt said. “I don’t know why. I guess I was waiting for the words from you. But they never came.”

Jesse was silent.

Walt looked at him. He could already feel a rent deep within himself, tearing.

“I love you,” he said again, quietly.

Jesse’s eyes filled with tears.

Walt stood up. Jesse watched him, silent tears falling.

“Say the words,” Walt said. “Let me release you.”

Jesse took a shaky breath. His lips parted.

Walt gazed at him sadly. “Say them,” he whispered. “Nothing’s happening until you do.”

Silence.

“You want this,” Walt said to him.

Jessie was crying.

“Say the words!” Walt snapped. “If you’re going, go! Get out of my sight!”

Jesse swallowed, crying.  Walt watched the movement of his throat.

Then Jesse said, “I’m sorry I was disobedient Mr. White.”

Walt stared.

“I displeased you,” Jesse said. “I’m sorry.”  

Walt stood motionless, watching him.

Jesse looked back, tears slipping down his face. “You will punish me for that,” he said. “I understand that.” His lips trembled briefly.

Walt was quiet.

Then said, “I will.”

Jesse held his gaze. “I know.”

Walt stood silently for another moment. Then he looked away, called into the other room. “Jefferson—can you please come back in?”

“Yes Mr. Hermann?”

Walt was staring at Jesse again. “We will complete the fourth set.”

“Very well Mr. Hermann. How hard do you want me to go?”

“Hard. As hard as he’ll take. Just don’t damage him.”

“Yes Mr. Hermann.” Jefferson positioned himself carefully behind Jesse. Tapped the cane lightly on his bottom, determining the placement of the next blow.

Jesse was crying silently. His eyes remained on Walt’s.

“Are you ready, Jesse?” Walt asked him.

“Yes.” Jesse closed his eyes.

Walt nodded at Jefferson.

“Proceed.”

***

Jesse was drifting.

The pain was still with him, flooding his body, but his mind had detached from it.

His throat was raw. His voice had broken at the end, under the last agonizing strike, his cry a ragged croak.

He felt hands on his forearms, undoing the restraints. Undoing the tight straps around his waist, his legs.

An arm around his shoulders. “Come on, Jesse. Let’s get up. Can you get up?” Mr. White’s voice.

Jesse shifted slightly on the bench. He had lost control of his limbs. They didn’t feel like his, anymore.

Mr. White’s hands, under his arms. “Come on, Jesse. Get up now. You can do it. Come on.” Pulling Jesse gently off the bench.

Jesse made an effort to stand and then his knees buckled. He collapsed on the floor.

“Leave me alone, Mr. White,” he said. “I’m good right here.”

Mr. White kneeling beside him, warm hands on him. “No you’re not. Come on Jesse, put your arms around me.” He was pulling Jesse up, embracing him.

“Where’s Jefferson?” Jesse asked vaguely. He leaned limply against his partner.

“He’s gone.”

Jesse dropped his head onto Mr. White’s chest. He started to sob.

Mr. White’s arms were around him. “Shh, shh, it’s okay...”

“How could you do this to me?” Jesse asked.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Mr. White was rocking him.

“You were _terrible_ to me.”

“I know. I’m a terrible person. I’m sorry.”

“You _want_ to make me hate you.”

Mr. White rocked him. “I love you, Jesse. I’m sorry.”

Jesse sobbed brokenly against his chest. Walt stroked his back.

Eventually said, “Come on. Let’s get up now. Can you stand?”

“…Yeah.”

Walt helped him to get up. “Put your arms around my neck. That’s it.”

They made their way to the bedroom, Jesse walking with difficulty. “Here, lie down on the bed. On your side. There you go.” Walt lowered Jesse carefully onto the bed. “Here, let’s get that thing off you.” He was unlocking the chastity device from Jesse’s cock, removed it gently. Bent and kissed Jesse’s cock, resting on him for a moment. “There.”

He rose, turned away.

Jesse reached out an arm. “Mr. White, don’t leave.”

Walt turned back. “I’m not. I was just putting this away. I’m right here.” He came back to Jesse on the bed. Lay down facing him.

Jesse’s hands were on his waist. “Undo your shirt.”

Walt smiled. “Okay.” He undid his shirt, opened it.

Jesse slipped his hands inside, his palms against Walt’s skin. He put his wet face against Walt’s bare chest.  “Do you love me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Jesse was silent. He rubbed his face against Walt’s chest.

Walt held him. He felt Jesse’s downy hair, tickling him.

Jesse lay against him, silent.

Walt’s chest was tight.  Jesse was silent.

But he wasn’t going anywhere.

Walt put his lips into Jesse’s hair.

“I love you,” he said to Jesse, softly.


	29. Chapter 29

It was late afternoon. The day’s light had taken on a golden tinge, the yellow sand of the gully and the orange rocks of the desert cliffs glowing. The breeze had freshened slightly.

Walt had fallen silent. He was curled around Jesse, his partner’s head tucked under his chin. He had been telling the story in a low voice, as much to himself as to Jesse, his voice turned inwards, towards the end. Jesse was lying against him quietly.

Walt wondered if Jesse was still listening, or if he had fallen asleep. He was stiff from lying in the same position. He turned onto his back, curving an arm loosely over the top of Jesse’s head. Jesse turned also, his cheek against Walt’s chest. He draped an arm across Walt’s body.

“Is that true?” Jesse asked eventually.

“Is what true?” Walt replied.

“Do you love me?” Jesse asked, quietly.

Walt was silent.

“Mr. White?”

Walt didn’t answer.

Jesse looked up from his place on Walt’s chest. “Did you mean it?” he asked. “What you said?”

Walt’s eyes were on the sky above them. He answered. “In the story, you mean?”

Jesse drew back slightly. Raised himself up on one elbow, looked down at his partner. “Was that what this was? Just a story?”

Walt gazed back at the kid in front of him. The young face, watching him intently. He had intended the story to be about something else. Hadn’t meant to say those words...they’d just kind of happened. What to say now?

“I’m confused, Jesse,” Walt replied finally. “I’ve never felt like this before. About anyone. This whole situation is as new for me as it is for you.”

Jesse frowned at him. “What kind of answer is that?”

Walt shrugged. “As honest an answer as I can give you.”

Jesse lay back down. Said to Walt, “So you didn’t mean what you said, just now.”

“I didn’t say that,” Walt answered.

Jesse sighed. “What is it with you, anyway?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…why is it so hard, man, to answer straight? You talk around me in circles all the time. I mean, give it up, already.”

Walt smiled. “I’m trying.”

“You call that trying?” Jesse responded sarcastically. “You’re not saying anything.”

“What do you want me to say?” Walt asked him.

“The _truth,_ asshole. Is that so hard?”

Walt considered this. Then laughed. “I guess it is, for me. I’m a natural liar, I guess.”

Jesse snorted. “No shit.”

Walt turned to Jesse, put his arms around him. He rubbed his cheek against him. “I love you,” he said. “But don’t ask me to explain what that means, right now. I don’t know myself yet. Can you be patient with me?”

Jesse had leaned into Walt’s embrace. Answered, “Um…okay…” Then he paused. “Wait. Hold on…you don’t know what it _means?”_

“Pardon?” Walt said.

Jesse drew away, glared at him. “Jesus. You say…that…to me, and then you say you…don’t know what it _means?_    What the hell’s _wrong_ with you?”

Walt was getting exasperated. “I _know_ what love means Jesse. I’m married, remember? A father? I just…I just can’t explain it in the context of _you._ I’m sorry.”

Jesse lay still. “Wow. Thanks a lot.”

“I’m sorry,” Walt said to him. “Can you be patient with me?”

Jesse was silent. Then asked, “What if I can’t?”

“What?”

“What if I can’t be patient,” Jesse said. “Can’t wait for your big `aha moment.’ In your story, I was ready to go. To get the hell away from you. Maybe that’s the best thing, after all.”

Walt sat up. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Jesse looked at him. “How can you stop me?”

“Jesse,” Walt said carefully. “I thought we covered this already. You’re not going anywhere. Right now you’re mine. Accept it.”

Jesse looked away.

Walt leaned over him. Kissed him. Jesse kept his mouth closed.

Walt lay down heavily on top of him. He kept kissing him. “Open your mouth,” he muttered.

“No—“

Walt moved in, his tongue stroking. Jesse made a muffled sound, started to turn his head away. Walt grabbed his jaw, fingers digging in, holding Jesse’s mouth open. He was kissing him intently. Felt Jesse's chest start to heave under him. Walt thrust his cock into Jesse's groin, began rocking against him. He felt Jesse yielding. His lips had softened. “Put your arms around me,” Walt whispered.

After a moment, Jesse embraced him. Walt nuzzled Jesse’s mouth. “I love you,” he said. “I love you, Jesse.”

He was kissing him.

“You’re not leaving me,” Walt continued. “You belong with me. Here.” Jesse was kissing him back. He put his tongue in Walt’s mouth. Raised his hips against Walt’s cock.

Walt lips moved to Jesse’s throat, kissing, feeding on the warm skin there. Jesse’s head fell back.

Walt paused. He sat up, looked down at his partner’s face. The blue eyes on his, reflecting the sky.

“I don’t want you saying that to me anymore.” Walt’s voice was quiet. “That you might leave. That you’re thinking of leaving. I find that very upsetting.”

“Okay,” Jesse said.

Walt looked at him.

“But I want an answer from you,” Jesse continued. “A straight one.”

“What’s that?”

“You can’t tell me you love me and then say you don’t know what that means. That’s not fair. I want to know what you mean. When you say that.”

Walt looked away. Then he met Jesse’s eyes again. Jesse was waiting, silent.

Walt took a breath. “Okay. You want to know what that means for me, right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re all I think about,” Walt said to him. “Your body, your mouth. Everything else is pale beside you. I’m obsessed with you. I want you, like this constant gnawing ache, inside of me. And you’re responsible for that.” He glanced at Jesse, smiled slightly. “You did that to me by being the beautiful…aggravating…hot little bitch that you are. I didn’t ask for that to happen.”

Jesse stayed silent, watching him.

Walt looked away again. He continued. “And I’m angry and sad that I have to leave you. That I can’t stay with you twenty-four hours a day, wake up beside you, go to sleep beside you. That I’m expecting to die in a few months and we won’t have any more time than this. And I feel angry and guilty that you’re taking my focus away from my family, when they need it most.”

He said to Jesse, “Your place was to be part of the plan, not the whole plan. But now, that’s what it feels like.”

Jesse was quiet. Then said, “It sounds like that’s a problem for you.”

“It is, rather,” Walt replied.

Jesse looked away. “Well, I guess that was honest, all right.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jesse sat up. His voice was strained. “You know, Mr. White, I don’t think I can live with that.”

“What do you mean?” Walt asked.

“We have to stop.”

“What?”

“I can’t be the one to mess up your plans,” Jesse said to him. “And take you away from your family like you say. I can’t live with that. We have to stop.”

Walt sat up as well. “You just said you weren’t leaving me,” he said.

“I’m didn’t say I was leaving,” Jesse replied. “I said we have to stop. This.”

“No.”

“Mr. White, you’re right,” Jesse said. “I _am_ messing up your plans. If you’re…obsessed like you say, and not thinking about anything else, that’s dangerous. That’s putting you and me in danger, as well as your family. It could get everyone killed.”

Walt shook his head. “You’re exaggerating.”

“No, I’m not,” Jesse said. “What we’re doing, Mr. White, it’s dangerous. Dealing with Tuco is dangerous. Dangerous enough if you’re thinking straight. But if you’re not, like you say? That’s really bad.”

Walt rolled his eyes. “You’re too worried about Tuco.”

“No…I’m not,” Jesse answered. “You don’t get it do you? Who do you think works in a criminal business? Criminals, that’s who. They’re not nice people, Mr. White. As a general rule.”

Walt breathed out carefully through his nose. He was not going to over-react here. “Okay… I agree, dealing with Tuco and his like has its risks. But you forget, we have something he wants. He’s not going to kill the goose that lays the golden egg.”

Jesse frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Our _product,_ Jesse,” Walt answered. “That’s our protection. It makes us valuable to people like Tuco. Valuable suppliers.”

“No, Mr. White,” Jesse said. “You still don’t get it. If this new product blows away the market like you say it will, that’s a danger all on its own. Don’t you see?”

Walt shook his head. “Not really.”

“Who do you think the market is, Mr. White? It’s not Wall Street, okay? It’s the cartel, it’s Tuco, it’s Krazy-8. If our product is such a game changer, guys like those, they’ll want to either own it or get rid of it. Eliminate the competition.”

Walt raised his eyebrows. “So what are you suggesting…that the danger is they’ll either force us to sell our meth to them or kill us to get it off the market?”

Jesse nodded. “Yeah. It’s possible.”

Walt shrugged. “Anything is possible, Jesse. You’re focusing on the problems again. You have to think positive here.”

Jesse sighed. “Jesus. Okay. Listen. What we are doing is _dangerous,_ yo. I don’t think you really get that, but anyway. But now…you’re telling me you’re distracted, on top of it. Just thinking about fucking me, am I correct? So what if something goes wrong? Somebody gets hurt…you’re going to blame me. Right? Because I distracted you in the first place. Messed up your plans like you said. I can’t live with that.”

“Can’t live with what?” Walt asked him, perplexed.

“Can’t live with being _responsible,”_ Jesse replied. “Listen to what you just said to me. If something else goes wrong, who do you think you’re going to blame?”

“I wouldn’t blame you Jesse,” Walt said.

Jesse looked at him. “You did though. You blamed me for what happened with Emilio and Krazy-8. And do you think I feel great about that? Emilio was my friend.”

Walt considered this. Then answered, “I asked you not to worry about that anymore. _I’m_ the one who killed them, remember? And they brought it on themselves. Your _friend_ was going to kill both of us. And Krazy-8 had it coming. Hank told me he was a snitch. Someone would have gotten him sooner or later. It’s actually good that it was us. Got to him in time.”

Jesse looked surprised. “What?”

“Yeah,” Walt said to him. “You didn’t know that? So, okay. I shouldn’t have blamed you for any of that, alright? I shouldn’t have said that to you. I’m sorry.”

Jesse looked down. He was quiet for a moment.

Then said, “Okay. Thanks.”

Walt watched him. He put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder, rubbed it. “So are we okay now?”

Jesse was still looking down. “Not really.”

Walt dropped his hand. “What else is bothering you?”

“What if someone else gets hurt?” Jesse asked him. “Someone who didn’t have it coming.” Jesse glanced at him briefly. “And what if you get hurt? Because we were fooling around instead of paying attention to business. I can’t feel responsible.” Jesse’s voice lowered. “I couldn’t deal with that.”

Walt sighed. “Jesse, you’re not giving me enough credit. Okay. Let me try to address your points here. Firstly, you say that we’re dealing with ruthless, dangerous people. Okay, sure. But…what do you think _I_ am? Do you think I’m not capable of being ruthless and dangerous, if I have to be? You think I’m not up to dealing with them?”

Jesse looked at him, disconcerted. Walt met his eyes steadily _(Emilio, Krazy-8, Tuco)_. After a moment, Jesse looked away again.

“And secondly,” Walt continued, “you seem to have jumped to the conclusion that my…preoccupation with you means my attention is off the business. Causing me to operate in some kind of fog, if you will.”

Jesse nodded. “Yeah.”

“But I didn’t say that. I said you took my attention off my _family._ Which you have, that’s true. But that’s my issue to deal with Jesse, not yours.” Walt smiled slightly. “Actually, in some sort of bizarre way, being with you has focused me more on the business than ever. It’s like…you _are_ the business to me now. I can’t imagine doing this without you. So no. My focus on the business is razor sharp. All I ask is the same of you. That means cut the drug use.”

Jesse looked down, silent.

“And to address your final point,” Walt said. “That you don’t want to be blamed, to be held responsible, if something goes wrong and someone gets hurt. First of all, I can’t see anything else going wrong. We’ve sorted out Tuco, got him lined up. We’ve got our methylamine. I’ve established a routine that my family’s accepted. So what’s to go wrong, here?” he asked.

Jesse rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

“And also,” Walt said, “if something does go wrong, or if someone does get hurt, I promise I won’t blame you. I’m an adult, okay? I understand the risks and I’m responsible for my own fate. And I would never expect you to do something you couldn’t live with.”

Walt looked down. When he spoke again, his voice had lowered. He spoke carefully. “Because…Jesse, there is something I didn’t say to you that’s very important.” He was quiet. Then continued. “You asked me what love means to me. For you. Well, I didn’t say the most important thing. The thing I should have said to you first.”

Walt glanced at Jesse briefly. Jesse was watching him. 

Walt said, “I care about your happiness. I care about your life. I want you to have a good life, and a long one.”

Jesse watched him.

“And I want you to remember me like that,” Walt said. “Remember me as the person who cared about you. Who loved you, exactly as you are. Who thought…that he was the luckiest man alive, just to have the time with you that he did.” Another pause. “ Who adored you.” Walt’s voice was quiet.

Jesse watched him, silent.

“I would never ask you to do anything you couldn’t bear,” Walt continued. “I would never ask you to bear the weight of any more grief.”

Jesse looked at his former teacher’s face. Mr. White was gazing at his hands.

“You’d never ask me to hurt anyone,” Jesse said.

“No.”

“Or cause someone to get hurt,” Jesse continued.

 _“No,”_ Mr. White answered. He met Jesse’s eyes. “If there’s any hurting to be done, I’ll deal with it. I won’t put that on you, I promise. But I’m not anticipating that, anyway. The only thing I’m asking you to do Jesse, while we’re on the subject of promises, is to cut the drug use. I recommend stopping altogether if you can. But at least cut it down to practically nothing. Occasional recreational use only. Could you do that for me?”

Jesse sighed. “Sure, I guess. I’ll try. I will.”

Mr. White smiled at him. “Great.”

They were both quiet. Then Jesse lay back, put his arms behind his head. Looked up at Mr. White. “So tell me again,” he said.

“Tell you what?”

Jesse smiled. “You know.”

Mr. White raised his eyebrows. “That I love you?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.” Mr. White said.

Jesse looked at him thoughtfully. “You’re not mad at me for taking you away from your family?”

“Not really,” Mr. White answered. “If anything, I'm more angry at myself.”

Jesse said, hesitantly, “Because the thing is, Mr. White, I do sort of want that.”

“I know.” Mr. White didn’t seem upset.

Jesse eyed him consideringly. “So…I’m fine for you exactly the way I am.”

“Yup.”

“So…that means you won’t get mad at me anymore.”

Walt smiled. “Well, I can’t promise that. I find you very aggravating.”

Jesse grimaced. “Thanks a lot.”

“But lovable,” Walt said. “Even though you make me see red sometimes. But I figure as long as I can spank you, we shouldn’t have a problem.”

Jesse laughed. This situation was too much...seriously. Then he reached out and hooked an arm around Mr. White's waist. Pulled him down. Threw an arm and leg over his former teacher, pressing him into the quilt. Put his face into Mr. White's throat.

“Say it again,” Jesse said.

Walt rubbed his cheek against Jesse’s hair. “You’re demanding aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Say it again.” Jesse was snuggling up against him. He ran his fingers lightly over Walt’s cock.

Walt snorted. “I love you. Brat.” He put a hand on Jesse’s bottom, tapped it warningly. Then put his arms around him.

Jesse settled against his side. “It sounded better in the story,” he said.

“In stories, we all get what we want.”

Jesse was quiet. Then asked. “What do you want, Mr. White?”

Walt considered. Then said, simply, “I don’t want to die. And I want you with me forever, all the time. And I want you to love me back.”

Jesse didn’t respond. He lay quietly in Walt’s arms. Walt closed his eyes. He listened to the wind sighing in the branches, breathed in Jesse’s scent. Felt the beat of the younger man’s heart as he lay against him. Listened to the soft sound of his own breath.

Jesse sat up. He took out a cigarette, lit up. Walt glanced at him. “I’m getting hungry,” he said to Jesse, eventually. “Do you want a sandwich?”

“Sure.”

Walt took two sandwiches out of the cooler, handed one to Jesse. Handed him a bottle of beer. They ate.

“This is good,” Jesse said, munching.

“Thanks.” Walt hesitated.  “So…just to be clear, we’re carrying on, as is.”

Jesse’s eyes were on the quiet landscape in front of them. “I guess so.”

“I want to spend as much time with you as possible,” Walt said. “I don’t know how long I’ll feel well.”

Jesse turned, looked at him. “So…you don’t think the chemo is working?”

Walt shrugged. “That’s an open question. I won’t know for awhile yet.”

Jesse took a swallow of beer. Then asked, “What if it does work?”

“What do you mean?” Walt asked.

“What if you make it?” Jesse said. “What happens then?”

Walt looked at him. Jesse was gazing into the distance.

“I love you Jesse,” Walt said to him, quietly. “I’m not just playing with you. We’ll figure out something.”

Jesse glanced over.  Walt was struck, forcibly, and not for the first time, by the direct quality of Jesse’s gaze. Somehow his partner’s gaze was more present than anyone else’s.

“Okay, Mr. White,” Jesse said.

Walt nodded. Then said, “We should get going soon. And there was one other thing I wanted to do, before we leave.”

Jesse looked at him suspiciously. “What?”

Walt grinned. “Nothing to be concerned about, I promise. Strictly family channel.”

Jesse replied, an eye on him. “Uh huh…but I want to hear about the rest of our lives, first.”

“I don’t understand,” Walt said.

“The rest of our lives!” Jesse replied. “You know, seven years down the road. What happened next. What you were telling me about, in the story. We’d just figured out that I wasn’t going to leave you, even though you were the world’s biggest asshole. And we were in that kinky pervert’s mansion with the hot naked chick who plays piano. So what happens next? Finish the story.”

"You want to hear about that now?” 

“Well, when were you planning on telling me?” Jesse asked.

“What about tomorrow? After the meet with Tuco. I was going over to your place. Stay for a few hours,” Walt answered.

“You might not be in the storytelling mood,” Jesse said. “And I don’t want to wait. I’m curious.”

Jesse looked happy, Walt noticed. The shadow he’d seen in his eyes earlier had vanished. But Walt felt curiously burdened, as if that shadow had transferred itself to him. He didn’t want Jesse to see that though. Walt kissed him.

“Fine,” he said. “But I need another beer.”

Jesse handed him one.

“Thanks. Okay. So here’s what happened next…”


	30. Chapter 30

“I love you,” Mr. White said, softly.

Jesse felt the whisper of Mr. White’s breath against his hair. Mr. White’s arms were clasped firmly around him. Jesse's face was pressed against his partner’s furry chest. He rubbed his cheek against Mr. White again. Turned his nose into him.

Mr. White stroked his back. Jesse felt his eyelids getting heavy. He leaned into his partner, getting as close to him as possible. Mr. White’s hands stilled.

They were quiet. Jesse started to drowse.

Time passed.

Then Mr. White’s low rumble. “Jesse.”

“Hm.”

“I want to put some lotion on you.”

“…Not right now, Mr. White. Let me just lie here, okay?”

“It will make you feel better.”

“…Doubt it.”

Jesse felt Mr. White’s chest shake with a slight laugh. “You seem to think I was asking you. I wasn’t asking. Let me up now. And lie on your stomach. I want to see the damage.”

Jesse sighed. Then he unwound himself from Mr. White and turned to lie on his stomach, resting his face in his arms.

Mr. White got up off the bed. There was a silence. Then Jesse felt his fingers very lightly brush his sore skin. “Jefferson did a spectacular job,” Mr. White said.

“Why, what does it look like?” Jesse asked.

“Every welt is exactly parallel to the next one. And they’re all evenly spaced. It looks like corrugated cardboard.”

“Wow, great. Take a photo.”

“I will.” Jesse heard Mr. White rummaging around. The click of his cellphone.

“Mr. White…I was kidding.”

“No, I want to have a record of this. I need to have an example to work towards.”

“…What do you mean?”

“I’m going to take Jefferson up on his offer to show me the basics. And I’m bringing a smaller cane back with me. For practice. And on you, eventually.”

Jesse felt his body tense. “You’re not going to use your belt anymore?”

“No, I’ll still use it. I’m planning on whipping you before you leave again, remember? But it’s good to have a reserve option. For the right occasion. And some variety.”

Jess swallowed. “How often would that be?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll consult with Jefferson before we leave.”

“Mr. White, that…what he did…that really hurt.”

“I know. Here, you want to see?” Mr. White put his cellphone in front of Jesse’s eyes. Jesse stared at the picture of his bottom. The precise, thin, laddered welts. A deep red.

“Did he break the skin? Look at that one.” Jesse pointed.

“I told him not to. Let me have a closer look.” Mr. White leaned over Jesse’s bottom. Jesse felt the light touch of a fingertip. He closed his eyes. “No, he didn’t,” Mr. White said. “But pretty close though. The next one would have gone through.“

“Mr. White…it would be okay with you? For you to hurt me that much?” Jesse turned his head. Looked up at his partner.

Mr. White gazed back at Jesse steadily. “If I can watch someone do that to you, I can do it myself,” he answered. “But I wouldn’t attempt to take you to that level of pain without knowing what I was doing. We’ll work up to it in stages.”

Jesse looked at him another moment, then turned his head away. “Oh,” he said. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, to that.

He heard Mr. White’s steps retreating. “I’m getting the lotion,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Get some ice, too.” Jesse said.

“Alright.”

***

Jesse was lying on the bed, drowsing again. Walt was at the desk, working. He glanced over at his partner, smiled. He loved this person, in front of him. Loved his body. Loved everything about him. They were going to have years together, yet. And Walt would make sure that Jesse never got bored. There would always be something for him to fear. To anticipate.

He called to him softly. “Jesse.”

After a moment Jesse turned around. “Yeah?”

“How are you feeling, now?”

Jesse moved, experimentally. “Better. But still really sore. I’m not going to be able to sit down.”

“That’s fine. You’re not going to need to, today. We’re staying another night. I’ve already called Skyler and re-arranged the flight.”

“Why are we staying, again?”

“The owner asked me to display you, tonight, to his guests. They’re putting on some sort of show.”

Jesse groaned. “Mr. White, you’ve got to be kidding. How can you expect me to do anything like that, after this?”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. And Jefferson was caning you with that in mind. He knew you needed to be functional in a few hours. I’m not expecting the effects of the punishment to linger, unduly.”

“Mr. White, I really don’t want to do that.”

“I know. But it’s not up to you. They’re sending some lady around later this afternoon, to get you ready. While she’s doing that I’ll meet up with Jefferson again. But in the meantime, you can rest. And we should get lunch soon. I take it you’re not up to going to the dining room?”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Um…no.”

“Fine. I’ll order in. And I’m going to work for a little longer. I’ve been trying to figure this one thing out, and it’s giving me some trouble. So I’d like to spend a few hours on it, if we’re not doing anything else. And in the meantime, you can put yourself in there.” Walt indicated the puppy cage.

Jesse looked askance at the cage on the floor. “Mr. White…really?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t I just lie on the bed?”

“No. I like looking at you in there. There’s a pillow, you’ll be fine.”

Jesse looked at him. Didn’t move.

Walt sighed. “Go and use the bathroom, before I lock you up. And if you argue with me anymore, I’m putting the disciplinary gear back on you. I’d decided to leave it off for the interim, because I don’t know what they’re planning for this evening, and to give you a break. But I can always change my mind. I enjoy seeing you harnessed up too.”

 Jesse glared at him. Then gingerly got himself up off the bed. He started to walk slowly to the bathroom, without saying anything further.

“Hold up,” Walt said.

Jesse looked at him, silently.

“Just because I love you doesn’t mean I’m putting up with any attitude,” Walt said. “Acknowledge my words. And then I’m silencing you again.”

Jesse looked down. “Yes Mr. White.”

“Very good. Now off you go. And don’t be long.”

“Yes Mr. White.”

***

Walt was gazing contemplatively at the algorithm in front of him. He'd been looking at it for the last ten minutes. Then he sighed, raised his eyes from his laptop computer screen. Glanced over at the cage on the floor.

Jesse was lying quietly on the pillow inside the cage. He was on his side, curled up. He had put one hand under his cheek. His eyes were closed.

Walt smiled at the sight. Then he turned his eyes back to the computer screen. Became lost in thought, again.

A knock on the door.

Walt got up to answer it. A uniformed man, pushing a trolley. “Your lunch, Mr. Hermann.”

Walt recognized his server from breakfast. “Thank you- ?”

“Robert, sir.”

“Thank you Robert. Here is fine.”

“Yes sir.” Robert pushed the trolley into the front room. Wheeled it over beside the desk. The canes were still laid out neatly on the desk’s surface, where Jesse had placed them.

“Would you like me to clear these sir?”

“Oh…yes please.”

Robert gathered up the canes. “Would you like me to put these back in the closet sir?”

“Sure…Actually, no I”ll do it. If you could lay out the dishes please.”

“Yes sir.” Robert handed the canes to Walt.

Walt went back to the bedroom. Opened the closet door, replaced the canes on the rack. Closed the door. Jesse was looking at him through the bars of the cage.

Walt smiled at him. “Lunch is here. I’ll bring in a plate for you.”

“Thank you Mr. White.”

“You’re welcome.” Walt went back into the front room. Robert had left, taking the trolley with him. Covered dishes were laid out on the desk, along with china and cutlery. Walt filled plates for both him and Jesse and took them back to the bedroom. Laid Jesse’s plate on the floor. Opened the cage door. Handed Jesse a knife and fork, rolled in a napkin.

“You may eat with your hands.”

Walt could see Jesse considering a response to this. Carefully. Then he said. “Thank you Mr. White.”

Walt’s lips twitched. “You’re welcome. Would you like a glass of water?”

“Yes please.”

Walt filled a glass of water at the bathroom sink, brought it to him. Then took his own plate to the desk. Helped himself to a beer from the minibar. Began to eat, watching his partner.

Jesse regarded the food in front of him. Some sort of meat casserole. Mashed potatoes with a dollop of gravy. Cooked vegetables (peas and carrots). So. He and Mr. White go to this creepy Beverly Hills BDSM mansion and get lunch made by…mom.

Jesse shook his head. Started to eat though. He was hungry.

They were finished. Mr. White collected Jesse’s plate. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“No thanks, Mr. White.”

“Okay.” Mr. White re-locked the cage door. Took the plates into the other room, returned. Sat back down at the desk. Started to work, again.

Jesse wasn’t sleepy anymore. He watched Mr. White watch his computer screen. It was about as interesting as watching grass grow. He shifted, rolling onto his other side. Then rolled back. Shifted himself around again.

Mr. White looked over, irritated. “Stay still.”

Jesse bit back a retort. “Yes Mr. White.” He lay quietly.

Time passed.

Jesse was moving around again. The cage was cramped –he couldn’t stretch out straight.

Mr. White stood up. He stretched, then walked over to the bureau, opened a drawer. Removed a pair of metal handcuffs. Jesse’s eyes widened. Mr. White walked over to the cage, bent down.

“Put your wrists against the bars.”

Jesse stared at him, distressed. He shook his head.

“Do it, Jesse. Or that dildo goes back in your ass right now. And the chastity device on your cock.”

Jesse closed his eyes. Then he extended his wrists.

Mr. White threaded the handcuffs through the bars and snapped them closed over Jesse’s wrists. Straightened up, looked down at his partner.

Jesse was lying uncomfortably on his stomach, his arms bound in front of him, legs bent awkwardly behind him. He craned his neck, looked up at Mr. White.

Mr. White shook his head at him. “I asked you to keep still. Now keep still. Or I strap down your ankles next. Are we clear?”

Jesse looked down. “Yes Mr. White.”

“Good.” Mr. White sat back down at the desk. Started contemplating the computer screen again.

Jesse held himself carefully still. To his mortification, his cock had hardened, and was rubbing against the soft nubbly fabric of the pillow. His ass was still throbbing. He closed his eyes. Started counting backwards from five hundred.

Waited.

Time passed.

Mr. White typing.

Then getting up, visiting the bathroom, returning.

Sitting at the desk again.

Typing.

Jesse’s eyes were glazed over. He sighed, softly. Raised his head to look at Mr. White.  Mr. White glanced over, took in Jesse’s expression. Smiled. “Bored, are we?”

“Yes Mr. White.”

“Would you like me to give you something to think about?”

“No Mr. White.”

“Very well then.” Mr. White turned back to his work.

Jesse put his head down again. He willed himself to go back to sleep.

 _I love you_ , Mr. White had said, to him. And for that, Jesse had stayed.

For more of this.

Oh well.

Mr. White was sure the romantic type. Jesse gave a silent snort of laughter, at that thought.

More time passed.

There was a knock at the door. Mr. White sighed, looked at his watch. Then he shut down and closed his computer. Rose to answer the door. A woman’s voice and Mr. White’s, in conversation.

“…In here,” Mr. White was saying.

“Oh my,” the woman’s voice. A crisp, light tone. “Are you punishing him Mr. Hermann?”

“Just a mild discipline,” Mr. White answered.

Jesse looked at her through the bars of the cage. It was the slim, red haired woman from the night before. She was dressed in a long, tight black leather skirt and matching bra, with a black leather corset tightly laced around her waist. Jesse blinked, observing the corset. He knew how _that_ felt. Her long hair was loose this time, falling down past her shoulders. She walked gracefully towards him on high, black heels.

Mr. White was just behind her. And then Jesse saw a third person, trailing slightly behind him. A petite, naked girl with long dark hair. Rachel.

The three of them stood around the cage, looking down at Jesse thoughtfully. Jesse stared back.

“What did you have in mind, for this evening?” Mr. White asked.

“Well,” the woman said, “I know Michael was eager to see your slave display himself to full advantage, so I had a fairly active tableau planned, involving Rachel, here, whom I believe you’ve met, and another slave, a young man, who is flying in with his Owner and will arrive shortly. But I can see that your slave has been caned quite severely, so I don’t think that is appropriate, at this point. His skin probably couldn’t take any additional flogging without breaking, which is against our policy, you know. So we will have to work around that.”

“I understand. I have a stipulation, if I may.”

“Of course.”

“Jesse is not to be paired with any other men,” Mr. White said. “I have no objection to Rachel here,” he smiled at Rachel, who dipped her head modestly. “But,” he continued, “I don’t share Jesse with other men. Ever.”

“I see,” the woman said. “I take that your -may I have your permission to use his name?”

Mr. White nodded.

“Thank you. I take it that your Jesse has not expressed this…side of himself with anyone but you?”

“That’s correct. He was a virgin when he came to me. In the sense of being with a man, over and above his submission to being owned. And he has never been with another man, since.”

“I see. How rare and valuable a slave you have here, Mr. Hermann. Your Jesse must be very precious to you.”

“Yes. He is.”

“Very well,” the woman said. “I'll relay your stipulation to Michael. Is there anything else you would like me to keep in mind?”

“Not really. Was there any penetration planned?”

“Possibly, with a dildo.  We'll be careful with him.  Do I have your permission for that?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. And may we make use of his cock?”

“With Rachel, you mean?”

“Yes.”

Mr. White shrugged. “Sure. I guess so.”

“Thank you.”

Jesse glanced quickly at Rachel. She met his eyes, then looked away.

“Can you please bring him out for me, Mr. Hermann?” the woman asked.

“Of course. Let me unlock him. Just a moment.” Mr. White retrieved the handcuff key, unlocked Jesse’s wrists. Then opened the door of the cage. “You may come out Jesse,” Mr. White said.

Jesse crawled carefully out of the cage. He stood self consciously in front of his partner, the woman and Rachel.

“Does he have your permission to speak with me and Rachel?” the woman asked Mr. White.

“Of course,” Mr. White answered.

The woman smiled at Jesse. “My name is Allyson,” she said. “You may address me as Mistress Allyson, or Ma’am.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Jesse answered, softly.

“And you've already met Rachel,” Allyson continued. “Rachel will be your partner, for this evening’s entertainment. Please follow her guidance carefully.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Very good.” Allyson turned to Mr. White. “I would like to take your Jesse and Rachel to our theatre. Familiarize him with the stage, and work out the choreography. May we do that now?”

“You may. I was planning to meet with Jefferson anyway.”

“Yes. He’s expecting you. You will find him at the front of the house.”

“Thank you. Let me get Jesse’s leash for you.” Mr. White attached the leash to Jesse’s collar. Handed it to Allyson.

“Thank you. I’ll bring him back here when we’re finished.”

“Yes please. If I’m not around, you may lock him in the cage.”

“I will.”

Mr. White kissed Jesse on the forehead. Jesse raised his face, closed his eyes briefly. “I’ll see you later," Mr. White said. "Be good.”

“Yes Sir.”

Mr. White left.

Jesse regarded the two women in front of him. They looked back.

“Would you like to put on some clothes?” Allyson asked.

Jesse looked at her gratefully. He nodded. “Rachel,” Allyson said, “I saw a kilt hanging over the chair in the other room. Can you please get that for him?”

“Yes Allyson.” Rachel left, came back with the kilt and kilt pin. Wrapped it around Jesse’s waist and pinned it.

“Thank you,” Jesse said.

“You’re welcome,” Allyson said. “And would you like to use the washroom, before we go?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Go ahead then.” She dropped the leash.

Jesse visited the bathroom, came back. Stood silently in front of the women again.

They looked at him admiringly.

“He’s gorgeous,” said Allyson.

“Yes Allyson.”

“I envy you. Getting to play with him, tonight.”

“Yes Ma’am. What are you going to arrange for us?”

“I’m not sure yet. It’s too bad we can’t flog him. I know Michael was looking forward to that. I’m surprised Jefferson caned him so hard. It’s somewhat unusual for him, to do that at a first appointment.”

“Yes.”

“And I know Michael won’t want him to flog _you_. He likes to reserve that for himself.”

Rachel looked down. “Yes.”

“But we can’t put on _too_ vanilla a show. That would disappoint our guests. I have a couple of ideas. Why don’t we go over to the theatre now, so I can see the two of you in context. Could you please take his leash for me?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Rachel picked up Jesse’s leash. “Come along, Jesse.”

The three of them left the suite, Allyson leading. Jesse walked silently, a little behind Rachel.

Rachel turned, grinned at him. “You can talk to me, you know.”

Jesse let out a breath. “Is this normal for you?”

“Is what normal?”

“Fucking a guest. On demand.”

Rachel drew back. “That’s a little harsh.”

“Is it? Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

Rachel stared ahead. The smile had left her face. “It’s not normal, no,” she replied. “Michael almost never puts me on display. And I’ve never…fucked another guest. Michael has never given his permission for that. We were all really surprised, when he said that could happen. He must really think a lot of you.”

Allyson glanced back at her, warningly. “Rachel…”

“I’m sorry Ma’am.” Rachel stopped speaking.

“So…you’re going to do it?” Jesse asked her. “Whether you want to or not?”

“I do what I’m told,” Rachel said to him. “Just the same as you. My wanting to doesn’t matter, one way or another.”

“Well _I’m_ not going to fuck you,” Jesse said. “Not unless you want to.”

Both women turned and stared at him.

Jesse looked at Rachel, then at Allyson. “I mean it,” he said.

Rachel glanced at Allyson. Then said, “I want to.”

Jesse snorted. “That was convincing. I meant for yourself. Not for _him_. The perv.”

Allyson looked at him coldly. “You will not address Mr. Adams that way.”

Jesse looked back. “And you’ll do…what, exactly?  Ma’am.”

They had all stopped walking. Allyson and Jesse regarded each other silently. Rachel was gazing at Jesse with an expression of surprised distress.

Allyson smiled at him. “I… _we_ won’t do anything…to you. That’s within your Owner’s discretion, of course. I would report your behaviour to your Owner and leave it up to him. But Mr. Adams could very well punish Rachel. For participating, even indirectly, in any disrespectful behaviour. And his punishments are severe. Rare, but very severe. And we would invite you and your Owner to watch.”

Jesse turned to Rachel. She was looking down. She was pale, her knuckles white as she gripped his leash. 

Jesse turned back to Allyson. “Please accept my apologies, Ma’am,” he said. “I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful to Rachel’s Owner. I’m sorry.”

Allyson watched him thoughtfully. “Apology accepted. Michael told me you were fresh. That this was your first introduction to our community. So I realize you may not understand certain things. Could find them upsetting. Rachel and I are here to provide you with some guidance. So you don’t say or do something you could regret, later.”

Jesse wasn’t looking at her. “Thank you Ma’am.”

“Yes.” Allyson started walking again. Rachel and Jesse followed.

Jesse glanced at Rachel. She felt his gaze, looked up. “I still mean it,” Jesse said to her, quietly.

Rachel gazed at him for another moment, then looked away.

***

They were in the theatre, a small intimate space with rows of plush red velvet chairs in front of a low, wooden stage. Red velvet curtains with heavy gold tassels hung over the stage and lined the walls. The theatre was lit with heavy crystal chandeliers.

Jesse shook his head. “This guy does things up right.”

Rachel nodded, smiled at him briefly. “He really does.”

“Yeah.”

Allyson climbed the steps to the stage. She turned, facing the theatre. Tapped a finger against her lips, her expression thoughtful. Looked down at the two young people, standing in front of her. Both beautiful, the dark hair and the blonde. The wide eyes, grey and blue, gazing up at her. Their pure faces, both retaining a startling quality of innocence, despite this life of conscious depravity. That must be what Michael had noticed, about Jesse. Why he'd been so set on having Mr. Hermann and his slave here, the moment he'd seen Jesse’s photograph. The unusual amount of effort he'd put, into his investigation of Mr. Hermann’s background, and the request he had planned. Allyson wasn’t in favour of that. Risky. Bordering on the discourteous. And Mr. Hermann struck her as a rather sinister character in his own right. Not a man to offend.

Allyson looked at Jesse, the dark gold of his hair shining in the theatre’s dim light. What a smart mouth. She smiled. The severity of his caning made sense to her suddenly.

Her eyes moved to Rachel, standing beside him. Yes, she could see why Michael wanted to pair them up. She was looking forward to it, herself.

“Rachel, can you please take Jesse’s hand?” she said.

“Yes Ma’am.” Rachel clasped Jesse’s hand.

Allyson contemplated them again. Two innocents, standing, hands clasped, in this place of shadow.

She had it. She walked to the edge of the stage, sat down. Rachel and Jesse stared at her. They were still holding hands.  Allyson noticed that Rachel had leaned into Jesse slightly, her arm brushing his.

“Jesse,” she said.

“Yes Ma’am?”

“Do you remember the fairy tale, Hansel and Gretel?”

“Um…no, not really.  That’s more girl’s stuff, isn’t it?”

“No, not really. But I’ll fill you in quickly. This brother and sister, Hansel and Gretel, get led by their treacherous father, into the deep, dark woods. He abandons them there. And then they come upon a house inhabited by an evil witch, who wants to eat them for dinner.”

She looked at Jesse inquiringly.

“Sounds really sexy,” Jesse said. “The audience will love it.”

Allyson grinned. “Well, in our little show, the plot has changed slightly. Hansel and Gretel get lost in the forest. But instead of meeting the witch, they meet up with the big bad wolf…”


	31. Chapter 31

Walt was standing in the anteroom to Michael’s theatre, a glass of whiskey in his hand.  The room was filled with other Owners and their slaves…quite a diverse and exotic crew.   Michael had introduced him to a few of them.  As Owner of one of the evening’s star attractions, Walt was the focus of some curious eyes. 

No one had seen Jesse yet.

Walt had barely seen him, himself.  After his practice session with Jefferson, Walt had returned to their suite.  Jesse wasn’t there.

Walt sat down to work again.  An hour passed.  Walt got up, restless.  It was time for dinner.  Where was he? 

Just as Walt was about to leave and look for him, a brief knock on the door.   Walt sprang to open it.  Allyson stood there, Jesse beside her.  A key was in her hand.

“Oh hello, Mr. Hermann, I was just about to let myself in.  Here is your Jesse, safe and sound.”

“Thank you, Allyson.  I trust he behaved himself?”

Allyson glanced at Jesse.  He was looking off into the distance, a set expression on his face.  “He conducted himself well, Mr. Hermann, thank you,” she said. 

“You’re welcome.”

“Would you like to join Michael and some other guests for dinner?”

“Thank you, however I was planning to eat with Jesse.”

Allyson hesitated, then said, “We were hoping to keep your Jesse out of sight, before the show.  I took the liberty of feeding him already, I hope you don’t mind.  Rachel won’t be joining us either.

Walt raised his eyebrows.  “I see.”

Allyson continued.  “I’ll come and collect him, before the performance.  And deliver him to you afterwards.”

“Very well,” Walt said.  “Let me just put him in his cage again, and I’ll join you.”

He walked Jesse to the other room, removed his leash.   Looked at him questioningly.  Jesse met his eyes, shrugged, looked away.

“Is everything all right?” Walt asked him.

“Yes Mr. White.”

Walt opened the cage door.  Jesse crawled inside and lay down silently.  He curled himself into a ball.

After one last glance at him, Walt locked the door and left the room.

Dinner, a sumptuous meal.   Michael’s other guests had arrived, the Owners seated with Walt and their host, their slaves either crouched at their feet, or eating together at a low table a few feet away.  As expected, the Owners were Michael’s peers -mature and well established, conservatively dressed, no costumes.  Walt thought he recognized a few of them, and one or two of the slaves, for that matter.  Famous faces.  But no recognizable names.  People using an alias, as he was, no doubt.  The conversation was relaxed and congenial.

And now, standing here in the anteroom, waiting.

Michael approached him, a glass of cognac in his hand.  “William.  Looking forward to our little spectacle?”

“Very much,” Walt replied.  “Do you know what they are doing?”

“Yes, Allyson gave me the outline for my approval.  Would you like me to fill you in?”

“Yes please.”

“It’s a sketch based on the story of Hansel and Gretel.  A rescue/rape fantasy.  Unfortunately, there won’t be any flogging involved, due to the condition of your Jesse’s bottom, but there is quite a titillating anal rape scene planned, with your Jesse playing the part of rapist.”

Walt considered this.  No wonder Jesse hadn’t looked happy. 

“And your Rachel is the one getting raped, I take it?”

“Yes.”

“And Michael, forgive me if I sound intrusive, but you don’t mind this?  That it’s your slave getting raped, I mean?”

“No,” Michael replied.  “I’ve been considering something like this for Rachel for some time.  She’s become quite a princess, you know.  Which she is, of course, in our little world.  But she needs reminding of her place.  I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to re-introduce her to it.  Something I can watch and enjoy.  And your visit, with your magnificent slave, has provided me with the perfect venue.”

“I see.”

Michael paused.  Then said, “William, I have a proposal for you.  I hope you won’t take it amiss—“

They were interrupted by a white coated waiter, who came up to them bearing a silver tray.  Walt glanced at it casually, then stared.

Arranged on the tray, in small silver dishes, were a variety of drugs –cocaine, Quaaludes, ecstasy pills, some neatly rolled joints, a small pile of dried mushrooms…and a dish of blue meth.

Michael was looking at him.  “I don’t partake, myself,” he said.  “But some of my guests do, and we like to serve them out before a show.  Heightens the experience you know.”

“I see.”

“These are all premium quality.  Guaranteed to produce the best high, within the category of your preference.”

“Hmm.”

“You might find this blue methamphetamine particularly interesting.  It’s very rare now, hard to find.  Hasn’t been produced in a number of years.”

“What do you mean?”

“A few years ago, this incredible methamphetamine product started showing up at parties.  Until then, meth was considered somewhat déclassé, you know, a white trash drug.  But this one…this completely changed people’s attitudes.  For awhile it was all the rage.  The premium drug.  So cool, you know, that blue colour.  And the purity…unparalleled.  Approaching one hundred percent.  A pure, electrifying, unadulterated high.  Or so I’m told.  And dangerously addictive.  Only to be used with the utmost caution, if you didn’t want to end up a junkie.”

“I see.  But you say it’s rare to find now?”

“Yes.  It was only available for a short time, a little over a year, in fact.  And then the quality declined.  There was still blue meth on the market, but not of the same level of purity.  Or consistency of experience.  The high was less reliable, less intense.  So I’m told, of course.”

“Of course.”

“I probably have one of the last collections of the original product.  And I don’t bring it out very often.  But I thought I would share a small amount in honour of this occasion.”

The two men looked at each other.

“Why do you think that such a small amount was produced?”  Walt asked.

“Meth has a poor reputation, primarily because of inconsistent quality.  But this brand, this could only have been produced by a master chemist.  Someone who really knew what he was doing.  Held himself to the highest standards possible.  And I imagine that it stopped being available on the market because…that chemist had no interest in producing it, anymore.  He…retired, most likely.” 

“I see…” Walt said slowly.  “And if one wanted to procure this…rare, hard to find product, how would one ask for it?  Specifically?”

“You would have to go to a world class dealer.  Someone with access to the best quality, most legendary products in existence.  Like my dealer, of course.  And then you would ask for the Heisenberg meth.”  Michael smiled.

Walt was silent.  Then said to Michael, “You were mentioning a…proposal, just before we were interrupted.”

“Yes.”  Michael inclined his head towards the tray, raised his eyebrows.  Walt shook his head.  The server moved away.  “One of the downsides of a lifestyle like mine, a lifestyle of complete self indulgence, is...ennui.  Boredom, you understand.  Not that I’m complaining.  I have been blessed with the rare privilege of doing exactly what I want, most of the time.  But one can get jaded, you know.  Boredom is a danger.  I’ve had friends commit suicide, out of ennui.” 

Michael continued.  “…And I find your Jesse…fascinating.  Alluring, from the moment I saw him.  Completing the submission of a slave like that would be a delightful puzzle in which to engage.  I envy you your ownership of him.”

Walt frowned.  Michael raised a hand.  “I understand he’s always been yours.  I have complete respect for that.  I have the same relationship with my Rachel.  Raised her from a child, in fact.  But over time…ties can loosen.  Things become routine…ennui can set in.  Perhaps…you understand that?  That you brought your Jesse here because…it was needed?”

“What are you asking me for, Michael?”  Walt said quietly.

“I would like access to him,” Michael said.  “We could train him for you.  Complete his breaking in.  He is magnificent, but he is raw.  But with material like that we could create an unparalled slave.  You’ve done an excellent job, don’t get me wrong.  But with a slave like your Jesse, it must be like training a wildcat, I can see that.  And it’s next to impossible to break a slave in completely without the support of a community.  We can provide that community for you.  I would assist you to smooth all those rough edges away, leaving nothing but pure slave.  And in the meantime, my home would be fully available to you.  And a full introduction to my friends.  I’m sure there are any number of Owners who would be pleased to share their slaves with you for the privilege of your Jesse’s presence.”

Walt was silent.  “I’m flattered at your offer, Michael,” he said finally, “but I must decline.  Please accept my apologies.”

Michael nodded.  “I thought you would say that,” he said.  “But please do take time to consider.  Perhaps it would be helpful to think of this, not so much as a request, but as an…opportunity…for your Jesse, to realize his potential, and for you… to further and protect your own interests.”

Walt looked at him.  Michael smiled, shrugged.  “My personality is such that when I see something genuinely rare and special, I take hold of it with both hands.  Just like when I saw that Heisenberg blue meth, I bought a large quantity.  Just to have it, you know.  Because I saw it was an anomaly.  I mean, how often would a chemist of that calibre, a _scientist_ no doubt, apply himself to such an enterprise?  No more than once in every fifty years.  And I see your Jesse in the same light.  A slave like that comes our way once every fifty years.  I would be honoured to assist you with his final training.  And you could consider it an…investment in your interests.”  He met Walt’s eyes.

Walt was breathing evenly.  He kept his face calm.  “I will consider your words carefully Michael,” he replied. 

“Thank you… _William_ …that is indeed, all I can ask.”  Michael looked up.  The lights had flickered.  “They must be ready for us,” he said.  “Shall we go in?”  He gestured courteously to the theatre door.

“Yes.  Thank you.”

***

The little theatre was full.  Michael’s guests, the Owners and certain, privileged slaves, had settled into the rows of seats.  Walt was seated in the front row, Michael on one side of him.  He saw Allyson seat herself on Michael’s other side.

Walt shifted, restlessly.  Michael’s words had eliminated his interest in the entertainment.  At this point, he just wanted to get Jesse back to their suite.  Lock him safely in his cage, under his eyes, and then get on his computer.  Start making inquiries, set some things in motion.  If Michael had been able to connect him with the Heisenberg product, someone else could too.  There was a breach in his back story that had to be addressed.  And then he would have to deal with Michael.  He was surprised Michael was trying to pressure him.  He must really want Jesse badly.  But the thought of Walt giving Michael access to Jesse to protect Walt's own interests was laughable.  And a mistake.

Walt knew how to protect his interests.

But first, to get through this show.  It was important not to overreact, here.

The lights went out.  The audience sat silently in the black darkness.

Then the sound of wind, blowing through the branches of trees. 

A cold blue light, moonlight, only barely illuminating the stage.

And then two silhouetted figures, a girl and a boy, hand in hand, dressed in ragged, old fashioned clothing, walking slowly.

The girl’s voice.  “Hansel…we’re lost.  I’m frightened.”

“Don’t be frightened Gretel, I’ll protect you.”  Jesse’s throaty voice.  Walt felt a shiver pass through his body, at the sound of it.  Behind him he heard the audience sigh with pleasure, as they recognized the story.

The girl’s voice.  “It’s so dark.  I can’t see anything.”

The boy put an arm around her.  “The moon’s behind some clouds.  It’s coming out now.  See?”

The moonlight fell onto the faces of the boy and girl, abruptly illuminating them.  The audience gasped.

Their faces were starkly outlined in the cold blue light, pale and worn with fear.  But bestowed, both of them, with an exquisite, otherworldly beauty.  Rachel had the delicate, finely cut features of a woodland fairy, with huge eyes and a soft, trembling mouth.  And Jesse…Jesse glowed like an angel.  Walt was struck again, a sharp familiar hurt, by that beauty which was just Jesse's, his alone, that remote, cold, celestial beauty.

He heard Michael, shifting in his seat, beside him.  “Magnificent,” the man whispered.  Walt didn’t think he was referring to Rachel.

Then a loud rustling sound.  The boy and girl cowered back.   “What’s that?” the girl cried.

“Get behind me.”  Jesse’s voice.  He shoved the girl behind him.  She put her arms around his waist, clinging.

Then both of them gasped. 

A dark, bestial figure appeared at the far end of the stage.  It stood silently, gradually revealed.  The tall, muscular body of a man.  But with hulking, hairy shoulders, and a wolf’s head in place of a human head.  A tail.  And a large, erect cock.

Walt tensed.  “Michael,” he whispered through clenched teeth.  “I had specifically said that Jesse was not to be paired with any men.”

“Don’t worry,” Michael whispered back.  “We worked around your stipulation.”

Jesse straightened, the girl still behind him.  “Run, Gretel,” he said.

“No –I can’t leave you here!”

 _“Run!”_   Jesse said.  He shoved her roughly away.  “I’ll distract it.  Hurry.  Do as I say!”

The girl embraced him briefly, putting her forehead against his back.  Then with a sob, she tore herself away and ran offstage.

Left alone, Jesse faced the silent, sinister figure.  It began walking towards him.  Walt now saw that the beast was wearing a crown, glinting under the light of the moon.

Jesse crouched down in a grappling posture.  The beast paused.  Then attacked him.

The two of them wrestled with each other.  Jesse was light, quick on his feet, circling his opponent with the grace that was so characteristic of him.  But he was clearly outmatched in terms of size and strength.  Eventually, the beast wrestled him to his knees, pinning one arm behind his back.  He knelt behind Jesse and shoved his cock hard against Jesse’s bottom.

Jesse moaned.  The sound was genuine.  Walt winced sympathetically.  Jesse’s bottom must still be terribly sore. 

Then a hoarse, rough voice from behind the mask.  “You have trespassed into my territory.  Yield to me to save your life.”

“No.” Jesse’s voice.  “To hell with you bitch!”  He started to struggle again.

The beast pulled his arm painfully up behind him.  “Yield to me boy, or I kill you.  And then I will catch your sister and kill her too.  But first...I will rape her.  But…you yield to me now and I’ll let you both go.  You and your sister will have safe passage.”

“Who are _you,_ that I’d believe you?” Jesse asked scornfully.

“I am the King of the Forest,” the beast replied.  “All who enter my territory must pay my price or die.  And my word is my bond.”  He thrust his cock brutally against Jesse again.  Jesse gasped.  Walt watched his beautiful agonized face, illuminated under the cold light.  He felt the enthralled focus of the audience behind him, silently intent.

Jesse bowed his head, defeated.  “I yield,” he said, hoarsely. 

The beast stood up, leaving Jesse on his knees.  He made a beckoning gesture.  Two other black figures, also in wolf masks, ran onto the stage, carrying a low bench, padded in black leather.   They set it down.  Then one of them came to Jesse and yanked him to his feet by his hair.  The beast watched silently, his arms crossed.

The other servant approached Jesse.  Roughly pulled off his shirt, revealing Jesse’s smooth slender torso, gleaming palely.  Walt heard a ripple of appreciation from the audience.  Michael leaned forward. 

Jesse stood disdainfully, his head tilted at an uncomfortable angle by the tight grip on his hair.  He wasn’t struggling, but not cooperating either.  He stood passively.  The servant ripped open and stripped off his ragged breeches, revealing his smooth, gleaming legs and erect cock.

Another appreciative murmur from the audience.

Jesse stood there silently on the stage, naked and vulnerable, his smooth skin glowing, his dark red, erect cock extended like an offering.  His beautiful face was still, distant. 

Walt closed his eyes briefly.  Jesse.

Then the servant holding Jesse’s hair roughly pivoted him around.  Jesse hadn’t been expecting this, and stumbled.  The servant yanked him up by his hair again.  He presented Jesse’s back to the audience, giving them an unrestricted view of Jesse’s harshly punished bottom.  The multiple thin weals from his caning stood out purple under the blue light.

The audience was shifting and rustling behind Walt.  It sounded like the restless movements of a large beast.  He glimpsed Michael in the corner of his eye, motionless.  Walt was frozen, arrested, himself.  Against his will, he was hard, his cock pushing painfully against his pants.

Like the rest of the audience, he now wanted to violate Jesse.  To see him raped and violated.  He was invested in it.

The two servants shoved Jesse over to the bench.  Put him up on it, balanced doggie style on his hands and knees.  Then one of the servants pushed Jesse’s head down until it touched the bench.  Pulled his arms out in front of him and strapped them down at the wrists.  Jesse kept his back flat in a punishment position, his bottom tilted up, his erect cock thrusting up against his belly.

“Are you ready?”  The hoarse voice of the beast.

“I’m ready.”  Jesse replied.

The beast reached out, struck his bottom sharply.  Jesse winced, cried out in pain.

“You will address me as Sir, boy.”

“I’m ready, Sir,” came Jesse’s voice, shaking.

“Very good.”  The beast walked over to the bench and knelt up on it, behind Jesse.  Put his hands on Jesse’s bottom, in preparation.

The audience was silent, motionless.  Walt was still also, caught up in the spectacle.   If that creature had started to rape Jesse, in front of him, he didn’t know whether he would have stopped it.

_(“ What?  Are you kidding me?”_

_“This is a story Jesse.  Dramatic license.  Of course I would have stopped it.”_

_“Jesus.  I hope so.”)_

But just as the beast was about to enter him, the girl appeared again.  She ran onto the stage.  “Stop!”

Jesse turned his head.  “Gretel!  Get out of here!”

The girl walked forward, holding up a hand.  “I’m not letting you do that to my brother.  Take me instead.”

“No!”  Jesse shouted.

The girl ignored him.  She faced the beast.  “You take him and let us go, you’ll lose both of us.  But if you take me, I’ll stay with you.  I will be yours, forever.”

The beast rose to his feet, turned to her.  “If you give yourself to me, you will be transformed,” he said.  “You will become like me, half human, half beast.  And you will never be able to leave this forest.”

“I know.”  The girl’s voice was quiet in the silent theatre.  “I want it to be so.”

“Gretel, no!”

“You’re doing this to save your brother from harm,” the beast said to her.  “But it doesn’t work that way.  Once you transform, you will have the same, bestial desires as me.  The desire to rape and kill.  He might be safe from me, because I am bound by my promise.  But he won’t be safe from you.”

“I could never hurt my brother,” the girl said.

The beast looked at her.   Holding his gaze, the girl’s hands slowly went to her clothing.  She stripped off her blouse and skirt.  Stood naked in front of him, the silken, curving body.  The round breasts, perfectly shaped.  She arched her breasts towards the silent beast.  Held out her arms.

“Take me,” she said.  “I want this.”

“ _No,_ Gretel, please…”  Jesse started to struggle against his bonds.  One of the servants went over, grabbed him sharply by the hair.

The beast turned to him.  “Stay still, boy!” he snapped.  “We’re not done with you yet.  You break your position and I will kill your sister and eat her, in front of you.”  Jesse froze.  The servant released his hair.  Jesse lowered his head.

The beast turned back to the girl.  “Come here.”

The girl approached him slowly.  She reached out, stroked the beast’s body with her hands.  The beast was still, letting her touch him

Then she kneeled in front of him, raised her head questioningly.  The beast nodded at her.  The girl took his cock in her mouth, started sucking it strongly.  The beast’s held fell back.  His hands went to her shoulders.  He started thrusting its hips against her mouth.  Groaning, heavily.

The girl had pressed herself up against the beast’s legs, her body arched back, abandoned.  The audience was silent, enthralled.  There was no sound in the room but the beast’s harsh groans of pleasure. 

Jesse was still and silent.

Then the beast grasped the girl’s arms, lifting her away from him.  “Are you sure you want this?” he asked.

“Yes,” the girl’s voice was cold and clear.  “But release my brother first.”

“He will be released after I take you, you have my promise,” the beast said.  “I will not touch him.”

The girl was silent.  Then she opened her arms again.

“Then take me.”  Her voice was broken.

The beast gripped her under the arms and lifted her up.  Lifted her onto his cock.  Thrust into her.  Then again, his cock sliding in and out.  The girl’s head fell back.  She wrapped her legs around the beast’s hips.

The beast continued to fuck her hard, in the standing position.  He bent her backwards, turning her face towards the audience.  She had closed her eyes.  They saw tears slipping down her pale cheeks.

The beast carried her off the stage.

A pause.

Then shockingly loud, a shrill woman’s scream, rising unbearably then breaking, gobbling, transforming itself into the distorted howl of a wolf.

The stage was dark, silent, except for the motionless figure of Jesse, carefully poised.  The audience was still.  Walt’s eyes were on his partner.  He wanted suddenly to rise, to go to Jesse, unbind him, lead him from this place.  To cover his naked body from the avid eyes of this depraved crowd.  He didn’t move.

From where the beast and the girl had exited, a figure appeared.  Walked slowly onto the stage.

It was the petite, naked figure of a woman, with round breasts, a narrow waist and lushly curving hips. 

But in place of her head was a black wolf’s head, with a long thin nose and sharply pointed ears.  A black tail curved gracefully over her bare bottom.  And where the notch in her legs should have been, was strapped a large, black rubber dildo.

Jesse turned his head, looked at her.  The creature approached him slowly.

“Gretel?” he asked hoarsely.  “Is that you?”

The creature was silent.  She walked over to the bench, knelt up on it.  Positioned herself behind Jesse.

“Gretel…you promised you wouldn’t hurt me,” Jesse said.  “You’re my sister.”

The creature put her thumbs on his anus, opening him.  She positioned the dildo carefully. 

“I am no longer your sister,” she said coldly, from behind the mask. 

Then thrust into him.

Jesse winced as the cold rubber dildo entered him.  Rachel had covered it with lubricant, so it moved inside him easily, but it was still hard…and _large._   Like being fucked with a piece of wood.  And Rachel wasn’t going easy on him, thrusting strongly against his sore ass.

“Jesus, Rachel, ramp down a little, okay?” he whispered through clenched teeth.  “You’re hurting me.”

“Sorry,” she whispered back.  “If I go too easy, they’ll notice.”  She thrust strongly into him again.

“Ouch –shit!”

“Sorry.  I’m going to grab your cock now, okay?”

“Oh sure, go ahead.  Looking forward to it.”

A breath of laughter.  “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”  Slender fingers enfolded his cock expertly.  A slippery thumb gently rubbed his glans.  Jesse realized that Rachel had coated her hand with lubricant too.  He made an involuntary sound of pleasure, rubbing his cock into her palm.

“That’s better, right?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Jesse whispered back.  “Better.”

“Good.  I think I’m getting the hang of fucking you too.  Let’s try this,” Rachel whispered.   She moved against Jesse again, but more smoothly this time.  The dildo had penetrated deep into Jesse’s body, coming up against the sensitive tissues of the prostate gland.  It nudged that spot, the one that Mr. White was so expert in finding, lighting it up.

“Oh Christ…” Jesse breathed.  He tilted his bottom up, involuntarily.

“Did I hit something good?” Rachel whispered to him.  Her slippery hand caressed Jesse’s cock.

“Yeah.  Keep it like that.”

“Okay.”  Rachel moved against him again.  Then again.  Jesse gasped, then moaned, the sound loud in the theatre, his head arching back.

Walt was staring at him, transfixed.  He had never watched Jesse take his pleasure before, not like this, as a passive observer.   Jesse’s slender body was straining back against his bonds, his bottom pressing against the girl, who was moving in him relentlessly, expertly, her hips thrusting, her hand fondling Jesse’s cock.

Walt watched her lean over Jesse’s back, reach out with her other hand and grip one of his nipples, pulling on it strongly.  At the same time, she thrust smoothly into Jesse’s ass again.  Jesse’s head came back.  He cried out, a rough, broken sound of rapture, as he had cried out so many times under Walt’s hands. 

To his surprise, Walt felt tears rising.  He had watched Jesse this morning, crying out in pain.  And now, in front of this audience, with pleasure.   Both sights, exquisite, never to be forgotten.

Jesse felt himself start to shudder.  “Rachel,” he gasped, “I’m going to come.  Let up.”

“You have to say the words,” she whispered back.  “That bring us to the next part of the scene.”  She hesitated.  “The part where you rape me,” she said haltingly.  “Try not to hurt me.”

Jesse set his lips.  “Don’t worry,” he said.  “I won’t hurt you.”  Then he raised his voice.  “Gretel…please… untie me.  Let me put my arms around you.”

Rachel went still.  “I have your word you won’t try to escape,” she said.

“No.”  Jesse said.  “I just want to look at you.  Let me turn over.  Please.”

Rachel withdrew from him, stood up.  “I will fuck you on your back,” she said.

Walt heard a murmur of pleasure run through the audience at her words.

“Yes,” Jesse said.  “Please fuck me.  Don’t stop.”

“Very well then.”  Rachel went over to his hands.  Unbound them.   Jesse turned over onto his back, raised his legs cooperatively. 

Michael leaned over.  “This is where he rapes her,” he said to Walt, conversationally.   Walt glanced at him coldly.

Rachel knelt back up on the bench, crouching between Jesse’s legs.  She readied herself to enter him.

Jesse suddenly sat up, grabbed her arms.  He flipped her onto the bench beneath him.  Then yanked her up onto her hands and knees.  Leaned over her.

 _“_ You little _dog bitch,”_ he said.  “You killed my sister.  And now you’re going to get what you deserve.”  He slapped her bottom, hard.  Walt heard her gasp.  There was a collective release of breath, from the audience behind him.

Jesse knelt behind the girl in the wolf mask.  Grabbed a hank of her long hair, pulled her head back, pointing the snout of her mask towards the ceiling.  He grabbed the dildo, using it like a handle to position her bottom against him.  “I’m going to rape your sweet ass,” he said to her.  “Show you what it feels like, bitch.”

“Hansel, please…please don’t hurt me,” the girl gasped.  “I’m still your sister…I’m still in here…”

Michael leaned over towards Walt.  “…Allyson did a wonderful job setting this up,” he said.  “The hurt…the betrayal happening between these two…so exquisite.”  Allyson smiled.  Walt frowned.

 _“_ You’re _lying,”_ Jesse snapped back.  He put his thumbs on her anus, opening her. 

“ _No!_   Please…don’t hurt me…”

Jesse paused.  Then he leaned over Rachel, spoke into her ear.  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“…What?”

“I’m not going to rape you,” Jesse said.

 _“What?_ You have to!  We have to finish the scene!”  Rachel hissed at him.  ‘What will Allyson say?”

“Who cares?” Jesse answered.  “I’m not going to do it.”

“Jesse!  You can’t just walk off the stage.  That would be a disaster for both of us!  Don’t be an idiot!”

“I didn’t say I was walking off,” Jesse replied.  “I said I wasn’t going to _rape_ you…”

Allyson was leaning forward.  “What are they _doing?_ ”  she said.  “He should have started by now.”  Michael was silent, frowning.  Walt glanced over at both of them.  He didn’t say anything.

Jesse straightened up.  Then, still kneeling behind her, he gently unbuckled the harness that strapped the dildo against Rachel’s groin.  Pulled it off her and threw it to the floor.  Unbuckled the wolf’s tail and threw it to the floor.

 _“Jesse!”_   Rachel said to him through clenched teeth, “What the hell are you _doing?_   That was part of the scene!”

“What the hell is he _doing?_   Allyson hissed.  “That dildo was part of the scene!”

Walt was silent.

Jesse caressed Rachel’s bottom.  He bent and planted a kiss in the small of her back.  Then he leaned over her again.

“Who was your first man?” he asked her.

 _“What?”_ Rachel hissed at him from behind the mask.

Jesse’s hands moved to her tense shoulders, rubbing them.  “Your first man,” he whispered.  “Who was he?”

 _“Michael,”_ Rachel answered.  “Who did you think?”

“And how old were you?”  Jesse asked her.  He kissed her on her back.  “The first time.”

“Seventeen,” Rachel said.  “Not that it’s any of _your_ business.  And where are we going with this, anyway?”

“That’s sad,” Jesse said to her.  He kissed her on her back again, then moved the curtain of her hair aside.  Kissed the nape of her neck.  “That’s sad that your first time had to be with someone like him.  But I’m going to fix that.”

“What do you _mean?_ ”  Rachel whispered painfully.

“If you let me take you…” Jesse whispered to her, softly.  “...I’m going to take you like it was your first time.”

He wrapped his arms around her and gently straightened her up.   Then he cupped his hands delicately over her breasts.   Kissed the side of her neck.  Rachel was breathing rapidly.  Sweat had broken out on her skin.  “Jesse, you’re scaring me,” she said.

“It’ll be okay,” Jesse replied.  Then he raised his voice.  “Gretel, I’m going to save you.  I’m going to bring you back.”

“What the hell is he _doing?”_   Allyson whispered furiously.  “He’s totally ruining the scene!”

Michael was staring at the couple on the stage, his jaw clenched.  Walt glanced at him.

Jesse put his hand on the wolf’s snout, caressed the leather mask.  Fondled the pointed ears.  Moved his hand down to Rachel’s bare throat, stroking.  Her head fell back against him.  “I’m turning you back into a girl,” Jesse said to the waiting silence of the theatre. 

His hands found the snaps at the back of the wolf mask.  Undid them.  Gently lifted the mask up, revealing Rachel’s face.  Her wide eyes blinked under the lights.  Jesse tossed the mask to the floor.

Allyson put her face in her hands, moaning.  The audience was silent, behind her.

Jesse was stroking, smoothing down Rachel’s hair.  “You have beautiful hair,” he said to her.  “So heavy.  But soft, like a soft heavy blanket.”

“Thank you,” Rachel whispered.

He kissed the side of her neck, again.  Then put his hands lightly on her shoulders.  “Turn around Rachel.  I want to kiss you.”

Rachel turned awkwardly around, so they were both on their knees, facing each other.   She put her hands on Jesse’s shoulders.   Her eyes were glistening. 

Jesse stroked her face.  Ran his fingers lightly over her parted lips.  Then bent forward and kissed her.  Felt her mouth open to receive him.  He stroked his tongue against her, delicately. 

“Lie back,” he whispered.  He pushed Rachel gently back until she was lying down on the bench, looking up at him.  Took her wrists and placed her arms over her head, stretching out her body.  Then he leaned over her, balanced on his hands.  Walt saw the slender muscles of his arms flexing.  His dark blonde head was bent.  Then he lowered his head to Rachel and kissed her again, nuzzling against her mouth.

Rachel raised her chin.  She put her tongue in Jesse’s mouth.  Jesse deepened the kiss, letting Rachel’s tongue explore him.  Then he raised his head, began dropping kisses lightly on her face.  “You’re beautiful,” he said to her.  Rachel was looking at him silently, her face pale in the cold light.  Walt watched his young partner tenderly kiss this girl, a stranger to them until this morning, in the same way he had so often kissed Jesse’s upturned face.  He felt himself breathing shallowly.  He saw Jesse murmuring to her. 

Then Jesse started kissing Rachel’s throat, opening his mouth against her skin.  Rachel’s head fell back.  He moved his mouth to her round breasts, closed his lips over one dark red, pointed nipple, and then the other.  Circled the nipples with his tongue. Rachel’s breath was hissing between her lips.  She rolled her head silently.  “You have beautiful breasts,” Jesse said to her.  “They’re perfect.  I love them.”  He kissed one and then the other, again.  Rachel put her hands on his head.

Jesse started kissing Rachel’s smooth belly, rubbing his face luxuriously against her skin.  “Raise your knees,” he muttered against her.  Rachel lifted her knees.

Jesse had shifted his body so that he was lying between her legs.  “Open up,” he said.  “Spread your legs.  I’m putting my mouth on you.”  Rachel stretched her legs further apart.

Jesse put his thumbs on the lips of her pussy, exposing her clit.  Then he buried his face against her.  Jabbed his tongue hard against her clit, fluttering it up and down.

Rachel cried out, arching her back.  Her hands were clutching Jesse’s hair.  Walt watched his partner assault the girl with his tongue, his body tensely focused, crouched over that one exquisite spot on the girl's body, the same spot that was drawing her whole attention.  The muscles of his lean back and shoulders were flexing, gleaming under the lights of the stage.

Rachel was moaning.  She started to writhe helplessly under Jesse’s tongue.  His hands went to her hips, holding her in place.  Walt glanced over at Michael.  The man was staring fixedly at the stage, motionless.

Rachel was shuddering, keening.  Her body was gleaming with sweat.  Jesse raised his head, looked at her.  His expression was intent, the blue eyes almost cold.  Walt stared at him with painful attention.  He'd seen that look on Jesse’s face before, whenever Jesse was giving him pleasure.

Jesse drew himself up again, leaning over Rachel.   Her expression was open, shattered.   “I want to fuck you,” Jesse said.  “But only if you want to.  For yourself.   And because you want to.  Not for any other reason.  And not for him or anyone else.  Just you.  Will you let me?”

Rachel looked at him, her eyes raw.  “Yes,” she said. 

Jesse smiled at her.  “I’m so lucky,” he whispered.  “You make me feel so lucky.”

Then he drew back slightly, and entered her, thrusting into her with one smooth, deep stroke.   Rachel gasped, her hands going to his shoulders.   Jesse started rocking his hips against her, his cock going deeply into her.  Rachel’s legs came up to clasp around his waist.  She put her arms around him.   “Jesse,” she said softly.  Jesse had put his face against her throat.  At the sound of her voice he looked up.  They looked at each other.  Then he kissed her.

Walt watched silently as his partner took the young woman on the stage.  She had begun to moan again, moaning into Jesse’s mouth, clutching at his back.  Jesse was rocking into her strongly.  Walt could see they were both close to coming.

Walt had never seen Jesse with another woman before, other than within his own marriage, with his wife.  Had imagined it, but never seen it.   He saw now that…this was how Jesse was.  Generous, tender, persuasive.  Coolly challenging.  Honest.  Without barriers or pretence.  And bold.  A courageous person.  This was how he was making love to that young woman...and this was how he was.

And he loved him.  Loved him.  More than anything.  His love.

Jesse was starting to shudder.  Sweat was gleaming on his back.  Rachel had put her lips into his hair.  She was embracing him closely.  He had put his face into her throat again. 

They were both moaning, clutching at each other.  Rachel was cooing in a soft, high voice.  A sound of pleased surprise.  Walt could see her smiling.  The audience was rapt, silent.  Every eye in the small theatre was on the young man and woman in front of them.

They were lying on the bench.  Rachel looked up at the ceiling, the lines of her profile pure and clean.  Her face was quiet.  Her hands rested lightly on Jesse’s back.  Jesse’s head was resting on her breast.  He had turned his face towards the audience, his eyes closed.

Then his eyes opened.  Jesse sought Walt out in the front row of onlookers, found him.  They gazed at each other.  Then Jesse smiled at him.  Walt smiled back.

The curtains closed.

The audience was silent.  Then erupted with applause.  The lights came on.

Michael was still staring fixedly in front of him.  He addressed Walt in a low voice.  “I imagine you want to punish your slave now, William.  For the incredible disobedience we just witnessed.  We have rooms here specifically for that purpose.  Shall I provide you with one?  And perhaps Jefferson, again?”

“No, I’ll take care of it,” Walt said mildly.  “Thank you for your offer though.”

“Not at all.  And please note that my _other_ offer still stands –after _this_ little display I'm more motivated to…assist you, than ever before.  Please consider it carefully.  Your Jesse is magnificent, without question, but he badly needs the training and discipline that only our community can provide.  Let us complete his breaking in.  I guarantee we’ll produce you a slave you’ll only find once in a lifetime.”

“I believe I already have that,” Walt said.  “But thank you, though.  As I said, I’m considering your words carefully.  And I will respond shortly.”

Michael sighed.  “Yes.  Well, I suppose I must see to my other guests.  And then I need to have a few words with Rachel.  Allyson, you will bring William’s Jesse back to his suite, for him?”

Allyson stood.  She still looked quietly furious.  “Yes, certainly.  I’ll collect both him and Rachel.  Where would you like me to bring Rachel, to wait for you?”

Michael shrugged.  “Downstairs will be fine.  You can leave her where you see fit.  I won’t be too long.”

“Very well.”  Allyson turned to Walt.  “Mr. Hermann, do you happen to have your Jesse’s leash with you?  I couldn’t find it, when I collected him from your suite, earlier.”

“Oh yes, it’s in my pocket.”  Walt replied.  He started to bring it out to hand it to her, then paused, looked at her.  “Actually, I’d like to collect him myself, if I may.  I’ll come with you.”

Allyson glanced briefly at Michael.  Then said crisply.  “Very well.  Shall we go then?”

“By all means.”  Walt turned to Michael.  “Thank you, Michael, for a lovely evening.  We’ll speak tomorrow, as promised.”

“Certainly.  Would you like to meet for breakfast again?”

“That would be fine.  Goodnight.”  Allyson was walking away.  Walt turned and followed her.

***

Walt found Jesse sitting alone in a small dressing room.  He was dressed again, wearing the black leather kilt.  “Where’s Rachel?”

“One of the crew came and took her away, right after the curtain closed,” Jesse said.  “I haven’t seen her since.”

Walt shook his head at him.  “That was quite a performance.  You pleased with yourself?”

Jesse looked at him levelly.  “Yeah.”

“Michael and Allyson are pretty mad at you for changing around the scene like that,” Walt said.

Jesse snorted.  “Like I care.”

“Michael thinks you should be punished.  Severely and immediately.  He offered me a special room, for that purpose.”

Jesse met his eyes again.  “Do you think I need to be punished, Mr. White?”

“If I did,” Walt said, “would you submit?”

Jesse took a breath.  He held Walt’s gaze.  “Yeah,” he said softly.  “I would.”

Walt smiled at him.  Then he took the leash out of his pocket, attached it to Jesse’s collar.

“There won’t be any punishment tonight,” he said.  “Tonight, I just want to put you to bed.  Where you belong.”


	32. Chapter 32

Walt had just put Jesse to bed.

He’d rubbed more lotion on Jesse’s bottom, dressed him in a pair of soft cotton pajama pants. Brought him a glass of water. Stood over him while he drank it.

Now Jesse was tucked in bed, lying on his side, his arms curled around his pillow, looking up at his partner. Walt pulled the bedclothes over his shoulders, smoothing them down. He kissed Jesse gently on the mouth.

“Go to sleep. I’ll join you in a bit. I need to do some work.”

Jesse frowned. “Work? _Now?”_

“Yeah.”

“What’s so urgent you have to do it _now?”_

“I have some thoughts I want to pursue, while they’re fresh. “

“Thoughts. Like science thoughts?”

“Nothing for you to concern yourself about. Go to sleep now.” Walt smiled at him, stroked his hair. Jesse blinked up at him. Walt put a hand over his eyes, closed them. “Go to sleep, Jesse,” he repeated firmly.

Jesse took an exasperated breath, then buried his head into the pillow. “Don’t be too long, okay?” he mumbled.

“I’ll try not to be.” Walt turned off the lights and left the bedroom, closing the door. He sat down at the desk in the outer room, turned on his laptop. Stared thoughtfully at the screen.

So. He was Michael, considering a new guest to his domain. Viewing a picture of that guest’s submissive partner and deciding he wanted some of that for himself. Vetting Walt and his partner with more than usual care, out of his fascination with Jesse. How had he stumbled across the Heisenberg connection? Surely he couldn’t have been looking for it. On the other hand…he _was_ a collector of the blue meth. In spite of himself, Walt felt a twinge of professional pride. His product…ending up a cultish legend in Beverly Hills. Not bad. And of course Michael would know that Walt was a chemist. A respected scientist. _Dr._ White, now, to everyone but Jesse. The former highschool chemistry teacher who had never given up his dreams. Who had persisted, against all odds, until the incredible, unheard of success of his commercial patents. A man who had emerged, in mid life, as a force in original research and an industrialist. An American success story.

_(“ Dr. White?”_

_“Yup. Honorary Ph.D. For my contribution to science.”_

_“Oh.”)_

And Michael would have looked at this story closely, very closely, out of his fascination with Jesse, Dr. White’s former student and now his business partner and close family friend. A pretty, meth smoking party boy with no clear source of income, prior to his association with Dr. White.

_(“Um…what?”_

_“…Sorry. How else am I supposed to say it?”_

_“Is that how you think of me?”_

_“No Jesse. I think of you as my gift. Everything else is unimportant.”_

_“Oh. Okay…I guess…So what does…`gift' mean, exactly?”_

_“It means good things. Can I go on with the story now?”_

_“…Sure.”)_

And, as a connoisseur of the blue meth, Michael would have noticed that Dr. White’s return to (expensively and mysteriously funded) laboratory research coincided…with the abrupt disappearance of the Heisenberg product from the market.

And of course, both Heisenberg and Dr. White were from New Mexico.

And Michael would have put two and two together.

That’s probably what had happened.

But really, how useful was this knowledge? And why did Michael think his disclosure of this knowledge would influence Walt into giving him access to Jesse?

After so many years, Walt felt safe from the reach of the law. There was no evidence connecting him with Heisenberg that would stand up to legal scrutiny at this point. He had made sure of that. And also..he was fairly sure that certain clients of his _legitimate_ products (those clients concerned with national security matters, for example), knew about his less than conventional background anyway. Walt wasn’t naïve about that. But those clients had chosen to sit on that knowledge because clearly Walt was more valuable to them doing what he was doing than behind bars. And it was too late for them to act on such (by now mere hearsay) knowledge at this point anyway. _Much_ too embarrassing, for all concerned.

In fact, Walt was pretty sure he could count on their protection, if his background ever became an issue.

And realistically, what were the odds that Walt’s background _would_ ever be an issue? Michael’s deduction was unfortunate. But the likelihood of anyone else with such informed knowledge of the blue meth _also_ taking such a keen and personal interest in Walt and his partner was...miniscule.

Still…all it took was one. His brother-in-law Hank came to mind. Hank had been worrisomely committed to catching Heisenberg. It had taken all of Walt’s ingenuity (and Hank’s blind spot towards him, the tepid, loser brother-in-law he had dismissed for so many years), to avoid detection and even then, it was probably timely that Walt had exited the business when he did.

Ah. That was it.

 _That_ was Michael’s lever. Those _interests_ he had alluded to. Hank.

Hank wouldn't be able to charge Walt with anything now. But Walt had no doubt that, if Michael shared his suspicions with Hank, his relationship with his brother-in-law would never be the same.  Would probably be ruined beyond repair. The family would be split. Skyler devastated. And Holly.

Hank was already rather wary of Walt because of Jesse. It had taken considerable finessing as well as pressure from Skyler (and Marie…women _loved_ Jesse…go figure…) to overcome Hank’s objections to him. Even now, Hank barely accepted Jesse as part of their family. And Jesse wasn’t too fond of Hank either. It was actually kind of funny, seeing the two of them together, so carefully polite. At least, Walt found it funny.

No. It wouldn’t take much for Hank to lose his remaining trust in Walt. A malicious word from Michael would certainly do it.

And Michael would know how important Walt’s family was to him. That was obvious to the most disinterested outsider.

Possibly so important…that Walt’s making Jesse available to him would seem like an acceptable compromise. After all, Michael seemed to think he’d be doing Walt a favour, anyway. Providing Jesse with a kind of final polish.  To be arrived at with great pleasure.

So. Problem identified. What to do now?

What Walt really needed…was some sort of comparable lever on Michael. Something to discourage the man from any further interest in Walt’s affairs. And certainly, to scare him away from Jesse. He remembered Michael’s words about his own slave, Rachel _(raised her from a child)._ That was creepy…and possibly a productive line of inquiry. It would be good to have the chance to talk with the girl. But Walt didn’t think that was likely to happen. And after all, her loyalties would lie with Michael. And Walt didn’t want to make trouble for her.

Well. He could get his information another way. Walt noodled around on his computer for a little longer, thinking. Then stood up. Time to make a call. His cellphone was in the bedroom.

Walt quietly opened the bedroom door. Walked softly through the dark room towards the bureau.

“Mr. White?”

Walt sighed. “I told you to go to sleep.”

“I can’t just go to sleep on _demand_... When are you coming to bed?”

“Soon. I just have to make a phone call.”

“Phone call? To _who?”_

“An old business associate.”

_“Who?”_

“It doesn’t matter, Jesse. Let me just get this done and I’ll come to bed.”

Jesse gingerly sat up. “Mr. White, I’m your partner, remember? Any old business associate of yours is _my_ old business associate. So who are you calling?”

Walt sighed again. “Lachlan.”

 _“Lachlan?_   Why, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Or nothing…yet. It’s just a preventative measure.”

“Preventative for _what?”_

Walt was getting irritated. “You won’t quit will you? Maybe I should punish you, after all.”

Jesse looked at him. “You do what you have to do. But I want to know. And I’m going to keep asking.”

“Fine. I’m going to ask him to look into Michael Adams for us.”

“Why?”

“Because…Michael appears to have connected me with Heisenberg.’

_“What?”_

“Yeah. And he seems to think that me knowing he knows will influence me to lend you to him. For some final…training, in his words. Breaking in.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yup. And he’s right, you know.”

“What?”

“You _do_ need additional breaking in. But he’s not the person to do it. That’s my job. And I’ll be paying closer attention to it, going forward.”

Jesse was quiet.

Walt smiled briefly at him. “Nothing to say to that? Anyway…I’m not worrying about that now. I need to deal with this first.”

“You don’t want Michael saying anything to Hank,” Jesse said.

Walt looked at him. Jesse was so quick.  So often unexpected, even now.  But welcome, definitely.

_(What do you mean… unexpected?”_

_“You’re smarter than I expected, that’s all.”_

_“Gee…thanks.”_

_“Sure.”)_

“That’s right. We don’t need that. So let me get this done and I’ll come to bed. But before I forget, I have to schedule a spanking in for you, for your defiance, just now. We’ll have to wait until your bottom recovers a bit…let me get the punishment book.”

Walt went over to the bedroom desk and turned on the desk lamp. Retrieved a small, leather bound daytimer from his computer case. Sat down and flipped through its pages. “Let’s see…end of August already…so…I’m whipping you again on the Labour Day weekend, before you go back to Munich. We’ll have to do it before then… I’m scheduling you for September 1. Hairbrush spanking. Nothing major. I’ll ask Skyler to take Holly out for the afternoon. She’ll probably want to get some school shopping done, anyway.”

Walt noted the appointment. Then he flipped casually through the rest of the daytimer. “I can see we’ve been a bit light this year. You being away so much was a factor no doubt, but it’s my fault too. I got lax. I’ll be making it up to you in the coming months.”

Jesse looked down. “Yes Mr. White.”

“Yes.” Walt put the daytimer away, switched off the desk lamp. “Okay. Let me make that phonecall. Then I’ll be back to you.”

“Say hi to Lachlan for me.” Jesse lay down again.

“I will.” Walt retrieved his phone and walked out of the bedroom. He left the door open this time.

Jesse could hear him from the other room.

“Hello, Lachlan? It’s Walt…I know. Long time, yeah. Sorry to call so late…yes…yes…yes, they’re fine…Oh yes, she’s good, doing really well. Busy you know…Yes, he’s still with me. Says hi to you…Yes, I will. How’s your wife? Ah, lovely. And the kids?...College? My goodness. Where? Very nice… congratulations…I know. Grow up so fast, don’t they…So Lachlan…someone is making a nuisance of himself…I need you to have a look at him. And then maybe we can discuss a strategy to make him go away…no, I don’t mean like _that._ That would upset Jesse. No, I promised him, remember? Yes…I know. But there it is. I’m thinking more of some sort of deterrent. And…again, my apologies for imposing, but is it possible for us to deal with this tonight? I’ll make it worth your while…”

Jesse had stopped listening. He put his face back into the pillow. Mr. White was handling the situation with his usual efficiency. And Jesse had no doubt the solution would be effective. Jesse shifted uncomfortably. His bottom still really hurt. And from what Mr. White was saying, it sounded like he’d better start getting used to that. Jesse felt the familiar twinge of pleasurable anxiety.

He burrowed down into the bed. Waited.

***

Mr. White was back in the bedroom. He’d turned off all the lights, was quietly taking off his clothes in the dark.

Jesse lay still, listening to him. Mr. White climbed into bed beside him. The click of his phone as he laid it on the bedside table. And then his glasses. Sighing as he settled down beside Jesse. Then a warm hand, stroking Jesse’s bare back. A kiss on his skin.

“Everything okay with Lachlan?” Jesse asked.

“Yeah. Says hi to you.”

“What’s happening?”

"He’s calling me back. I’m going to try to get a little sleep before then.”

“Okay.”

Walt continued to stroke Jesse’s back. Jesse started to drowse under his partner’s touch. Then he felt Mr. White’s hand on his chest. A thumb, circling a nipple.

“…I thought you were going to get some sleep.”

“I am.” The thumb, circling. “In a bit.” Mr. White stroked his hand down Jesse’s front, found his cock, under the light cotton of the pajamas. Rubbed him gently.

Jesse felt himself getting hard. He lay quietly under Mr. White’s hand. Then he heard Mr. White’s soft laugh. “You were such a brat tonight. Weren’t you?”

“Guess so.”

“Michael would love the chance to punish you. He was practically panting for it.”

“But you’d never allow it.”

“No.”

Jesse turned around. He looked at Mr. White’s face, lying next to his. The narrow, intelligent green gaze. Jesse ran his fingers along Mr. White’s cheek. Traced the craggy jaw. Saw Mr. White’s eyes soften.

“Tell me again,” Jesse said.

“Tell you what?”

Jesse smiled. “You know.”

Mr. White raised his eyebrows. “That I love you?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.” Mr. White said simply.

Jesse looked at him thoughtfully.

Mr. White leaned forward, began kissing him. Jesse opened his mouth, let Mr. White in. Mr. White’s hands were at the waist of his pajamas. “Take these off,” he whispered.

Jesse pulled off them off, with Mr. White's assistance. Then Mr. White’s hand on his cock again, stroking.

“Jesse, can you lie on your back?” His partner's rumbling voice.

“Okay.” Jesse lay himself flat on the bed. Mr. White pulled the covers away, raised himself up on one elbow, looked at him. Kissed his stomach. Put his face into Jesse’s groin, kissed his cock. Jesse put his hands against Mr. White’s head, the warm, prickly scalp.

Mr. White’s hands were on his thighs, stroking the smooth, hairless skin. “Mmm.”

“Like me like this, do you?” Jesse asked.

“I do,” Mr. White replied. “Although I like you the other way too. I like you all ways. But I must say, I’m enjoying your skin this way. It’s like pure satin. The way I always imagined it.”

“Planning to have fun, dressing me up?” Jesse's voice was dry.

Mr. White grinned. “Sure am. My pretty, submissive little wife.”

Jesse snorted. “You’re _such_ a kinky bastard.”

“Sure am.” Mr. White started nuzzling his face harder into Jesse’s groin. Kissed his cock again. Jesse shifted restlessly. Mr. White stretched himself out to lie beside him on the bed. Embraced him. Leaned forward and kissed him.

Jesse felt the hard press of the older man’s lips, the brush of the moustache, tickling. “That outfit was pretty uncomfortable,” he said.

Mr. White was kissing him. “I know,” he replied. “Part of the fun. The other outfits will be uncomfortable too. Sexy, but uncomfortable.”

“What are you going to do if guys come on to me while I’m out with you? Dressed like that?” Jesse asked.

Mr. White kissed him again. “I’m going to march you back home,” he said. Another kiss. “Take you into the bedroom, put you over my knee. Pull up your skirt.” Kissed Jesse again. “Pull down your little panties and spank your bottom until you’re crying...” Kissed him. “…And then I’m going to fuck you good and hard to remind you who you belong to.”

Jesse was melting under the words and kisses. “And then?” he whispered. Raised his mouth.

“And _then_ …” Mr. White said, “I’ll put you in a corner. Nose against the wall. Holding your skirt up so I can see your red bottom. Let you stand there for awhile to consider the consequences of being a tease. My hot little bitch, who got the spanking she deserved.” Kissed Jesse again. Jesse felt Mr. White smiling against his mouth. Another wave of pleasure ran through him.

“And after that?” he asked softly.

“And after that…” Walt replied, “I’m going to come up behind you, turn you around. Put my arms around you. Put your face against my chest. And you’ll be crying, telling me you’re sorry. And I’ll say I forgive you. And you’ll thank me, for punishing you so properly.” His arms came around Jesse on the bed. He kissed him deeply, rubbing his back. Jesse embraced him. “And then…” Walt kissed Jesse again. “…I’ll undress you. Lay you back on the bed. Stroke you. Kiss you. And then I’ll make love to you. Take you, until you’re moaning, begging me. And afterwards I’ll hold you. And you’ll go to sleep in my arms.”

Jesse’s mouth was soft, yielding under Walt’s kisses. “Are you going to do that now?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Walt whispered back. He moved back down Jesse’s body, closed his lips around his cock. Started sucking on him. Jesse gasped softly. He bucked into Walt’s mouth. Walt continued sucking on him until Jesse was moaning, writhing his hips, close to coming.

Walt raised his head, looked at him. Jesse was lying pliant on the bed. Waiting for him. He met Walt’s eyes. “Mr. White...please…”

Walt reached out for the tube of lubricant, squeezed it generously over himself. Then put his hands on Jesse’s knees, gently pushing them up. Placed his thumb on Jesse’s anus, rubbing. Jesse was looking at him. He’d parted his lips.

Walt smiled. He knelt between Jesse’s legs and thrust into him, gliding easily. Jesse closed his eyes. Walt leaned over him, balanced on his hands, moving strongly inside him.

Jesse was pushing himself up against Walt. His cock brushed Walt’s belly, rigid. His hand moved tentatively towards it. “No,” Walt said quietly. “You don’t touch yourself without my permission.” Jesse’s hand flattened against the mattress.

Walt bent his head, kissed him again. Jesse raised his mouth, put his tongue in Walt’s mouth appealingly. Walt kissed him, thrust into him the way he knew Jesse liked, felt his immediate, shuddering response. Continued to fuck him hard like that. Jesse started to moan.

Walt felt himself coming. He sealed his mouth over Jesse’s, sealing in the soft sounds. Jesse had wrapped his legs around him, the slender arms holding him. He felt Jesse trembling, shaking under him. His cock spilling against him. Walt released into him, the sharp pleasure breaking through his body. _“Jesse,”_ he muttered against his partner’s mouth.

Walt was lying on Jesse’s chest, his eyes closed. He felt the young man’s breath slowing. Jesse’s hands were on Walt’s back, his palms against Walt’s skin. He lay under Walt quietly.

After a while, Walt stirred, got up. Went to the bathroom, cleaned himself off. Brought a towel to Jesse, wiped him clean, tenderly. Then got back into the bed, pulling up the covers. Wrapped Jesse in his arms again.

Jesse pressed his face against Walt’s throat.

“You complete me,” Walt said to him softly. “My beautiful boy.”

***

“...and if I make it,” he continued, “You’ll sleep beside me every night. Wake up with me in the morning.”

Jesse was lying down on the quilt, his arms behind his head. He’d been looking up at the sky, listening. Now his eyes moved to Walt.

“How would that work?” he asked. “With your wife, I mean.”

“We’ll make it work,” said Walt. “I’ll make her understand.”  His voice was confident.

Jesse looked at him sceptically.

Walt looked back. “If I survive this cancer, Jesse,” he said quietly, “it will be a miracle. And _you’re_ a miracle, too. My gift, for the...gift of the rest of my life. Now that I have you, I’m not letting you go. We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Jesse looked at him. The wide blue eyes.

Walt leaned over. Kissed him. “I love you,” he said. “If I make it, we’ll have a great life together. Trust me.”

Jesse looked at him silently.

Walt kissed him again then lay down beside him, took Jesse in his arms.

Continued.

***

He was dragged out of a deep sleep by an annoying, repetitive sound. Walt reached vaguely over for his cellphone, for the expected call. Then realized that the noise wasn’t the cell phone ringing.

A knocking at the door.

Walt sat up. Jesse stirred. “What is it?” he mumbled.

“Someone’s at the door.”

Jesse opened his eyes. “Jesus. What time is it?”

“The middle of the night.” Walt was on his feet, putting on his pants. He turned, regarded his partner lying frowning on the bed. Smiled at him briefly. “Stay there, I’ll see who it is.” He left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Turned on the lights, opened the door to the suite. Robert the server stood there, out of uniform, his bulky form dressed in jeans and a pullover sweater.

“Mr. Hermann, so sorry to disturb you- ”

“What’s this about?” Walt asked.

Robert turned. Rachel stepped from behind him. “Hi Mr. Hermann,” she said softly.

Walt looked at her. She was barefoot, wearing a grey silk dressing gown. Her dark hair was dishevelled, straggling around her shoulders. Her face was pale, tearstained.

“What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” Walt asked.

“Can I see Jesse?” Rachel asked.

“What for?”

“I want to say goodbye. I won’t have the chance, tomorrow.”

“Why not?”

“I’m being punished. Michael’s locking me up for days. Robert let me out, so I could come here, but I can’t stay long. I have to get back before anyone notices.”

“Jesse’s sleeping,” Walt said.

Tears welled in Rachel’s eyes. “Please Mr. Hermann,” she whispered. “Let me say goodbye to him.”

Walt sighed. “Rachel—“

The bedroom door opened. Jesse appeared in his pajama bottoms. He blinked in the bright lights. “What’s going on?”

Rachel rushed past Walt. _“Jesse—“_

His eyes widened. “Rachel. What’re you doing here?”

Walt rolled his eyes. Then gestured to Robert politely. “Come on in.” He closed the door behind them.

Rachel halted in front of Jesse. She put a hand on his arm, looked up. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Right _now?”_

“I won’t have the chance again before you leave tomorrow. Michael’s punishing me. He’s locked me up in the punishment room, downstairs. Told me I wouldn’t see the light of day till classes start. Robert agreed to bring me here to say goodbye. But I have to get back.”

 _“Punishing you?_   What for?”

Tears started running down Rachel’s face. “For enjoying, what we did together, up on stage,” she said brokenly. “For going along with it.”

“But you had no choice! That’s not fair!”

“Michael doesn’t see it that way. He said what you did was a message, directed at him. That I should have fought you, forced you to rape me, after all. He knew I knew that’s what he wanted.”

“That sad _asshole!”_

“Don’t call him that. And he’s right, you know. You _were_ giving him a message. Taking his slave like that. Like I was your girlfriend. Like it was our first time.” She was crying. “And I _did_ go along with it. I deserve to be punished.”

“Rachel, I’m sorry.” Jesse’s said, distressed. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

Rachel looked at him. “Don’t be sorry,” she replied quietly. “It was lovely. The best first time anyone could have asked for. That’s why I wanted to see you again before you left. So you didn’t think I was mad at you.”

Jesse stared at her. Rachel held his eyes a moment longer, then leaned forward for a kiss. “Goodbye Jesse,” she whispered. Jesse’s hands automatically went to her shoulders. Rachel winced, cried out.

Jesse lifted his hands quickly. “What’s wrong?”

“My back is really sore,” Rachel said. “Michael had Jefferson come and whip me. He used the bullwhip.”

_“What!”_

“Michael gave him permission to break the skin. He’s only done that once before. Not heavy, not enough to permanently scar. But it really hurts right now, as you can imagine.”

Jesse was white. He said tightly, “Show me.”

Walt stepped forward. “Jesse—“

“Mr. White, I need to see this.” Jesse looked at Rachel. “Show me.”

Rachel didn’t move. She stared at him, tears in her eyes.

Jesse’s hands went to the tie at Rachel’s waist. He undid it. Rachel stood motionless. Her robe fell open. Jesse gently slipped the garment off her shoulders. Walked around her to look at her back.

He sucked in his breath.

Dark red weals, some of them beaded with blood, covered Rachel’s shoulders, the backs of her arms, the middle of her back. There was a band of unmarked skin over her kidneys and then the weals resumed, more heavily, across her bottom, the backs of her thighs, her calves, all the way down to her ankles.

Walt was staring also, appalled. Robert had averted his eyes.

Jesse bent, picked her robe up off the floor. Gently covered her again. Then started towards the door. “Where is he?” he snapped at Robert.

Walt stepped forward, grabbed his arms. “Jesse! Wait a moment—“

“Mr. White, I’m going to _find_ that asshole and beat him to a pulp. And then I’m going to hunt down that psycho Jefferson. Don’t try to stop me.”

 _“No!”_   The three other voices in the room. Jesse was trying to yank himself out of Walt’s grip. Walt held on tight.

“Mr. Jesse, you can’t do that, it’ll mean my job.” Robert said.

“Jesse, don’t! You’ll just make things worse for me! You can’t!” Rachel exclaimed.

“Jesse. Don’t be stupid. We’re already _dealing_ with this, remember?” Walt looked at him meaningfully. Dug his fingers warningly into Jesse’s arms.

Jesse glared back. “We were dealing with the other thing, not with _this,”_ he said. “That cowardly asshole...He can’t get away with this!”

Robert spoke again. “Miss Rachel, we have to go,” he said. “I have to get you back.”

Rachel looked at Jesse. “I have to go Jesse,” she whispered. “Kiss me goodbye, okay?”

Jesse wrenched himself away from Walt. Took her hands. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said.

 _“What?”_   Rachel said. Walt looked at him sharply.

“Miss Rachel,” Robert sounded desperate. “We really need to get going.”

“You’re not going back to that asshole for more of…that.” Jesse said. “You’re coming with us.”

 _“What?”_   All three voices.

“Jesse—“ Walt began-

“ -She’s coming with us, okay Mr. White?” Jesse said. “We can’t leave her here like this. This was all my fault.”

“You can’t do that, Mr. Jesse,” Robert said. “Miss Rachel, we really have to go, if you don’t want to be found out. We have to go now.” He reached towards her.

Jesse struck his hand away. “Leave her alone, you fat shit! She’s not going anywhere with you!”

“Jesse!” Rachel said.

“It’s not up to you, Mr. Jesse,” Robert said. “Come along, Miss Rachel.” Reached for her again.

Jesse smiled at him. “You try to take her one more time and I’ll make enough noise to wake every person in this creepy shithole up. Think your boss will thank you for _that?”_

Robert dropped his hand.

Rachel looked at him. “Jesse, I appreciate the offer,” she said quietly. “But this is my home. Michael and the others are my family. I can’t leave.”

“If you come with us, you’ll have another family,” Jesse said.

Walt sighed. “Jesse—“

“What?” Jesse asked him. “Isn’t this what you and Skye had in mind all along?”

“Well yes, but…”

“But _what?”_

“But Jesse,” Walt said. “Does it have to be right _now?”_   He spread his hands.

Jesse looked at him. “Maybe now, maybe not,” he said. “It’s too soon to tell. But we can’t leave her here, Mr. White. I’m not doing that.” His eyes were steady.

Walt sighed, looked away. “Fine,” he said eventually. Turned to Rachel. “Rachel, you’re welcome to come with us. You can stay with us for as long as you want. Until your school starts. Or for as much time as you need, to sort things out for yourself.” He glanced back at Jesse narrowly.

Rachel was crying again. “I can’t,” she said. “Michael’s paying for my school. If I leave, I’ll have nothing. I won’t be able to finish. And I’ll have no one. Michael and this place...it's my life. Without him I’ll be alone.”

“I’ll pay for your school,” Jesse said.

Walt and Rachel looked at him. Jesse looked back. “What?” he said. “I’ll pay for it. I can afford it. And it could be a good investment for us,” he said to Walt. “She could be an intern for you.”

Walt stared at him then looked at Rachel. “Where are you going to school?” he asked.

“UCLA,” Rachel answered softly. “Biophysics program.”

Walt raised his eyebrows. “Oh.”

Jesse turned to Rachel. “I’ll pay for the rest of your school.”

“Jesse, I can’t ask that of you,” Rachel said. “And I really have to go.” She turned to leave.

“Rachel, listen,” Jesse said. There was a new note in his voice.

Both Rachel and Walt looked at him.

“You’ve been part of this thing since what, seventeen? Earlier?” Jesse asked.

Rachel looked down. “Earlier,” she said. “I’ve known Michael since I was in South Africa. He brought me to the States.”

“God.” Jesse muttered. “Okay. So you’ve grown up with him. And the way he sees you. And that’s all you see now, am I right? The slave. And he’s made this sick deal with you –your education, your future for…this. That’s not a choice, Rachel. He’s bought you. You really _are_ his slave.”

“Yeah,” Rachel’s eyes flashed at him. “So what?  And why is that any of your business?”

Jesse was quiet. Then said, “You know, a few years ago…if there’d been someone around who believed in me, helped me, with no conditions, no price, who did it just because they cared…that would have meant a lot,” he said.

Walt looked at him.

Jesse continued. “I had someone like that for awhile, but I wasn’t ready to listen. And then she died, before I gave her a chance.”

Rachel was quiet.

“And I was lost for a long time,” Jesse said. “Still am, kind of.” He glanced at Walt, smiled briefly. “But I’ve accepted that. That’s on purpose.” Looked back at Rachel, not smiling anymore. “I don’t think it _is_ on purpose, for you.”

“What are you saying?” Rachel whispered.

“Finish your school,” Jesse said. “Just like any other college kid. Live on campus, find a roommate, go eat pizza at one a.m. just because you feel like it. Go to a bar, flirt with some boys. Concentrate on your studies, without worrying that some middle aged pervert is going to whip your ass. Just be a girl for a little while. And if you want to go back to the life later, well, that’s your choice right? But give yourself one. Give yourself a choice. Don’t finish your growing up this way.”

Rachel was crying. “I don’t know how,” she said.

“I know,” Jessie replied gently. “But you’re smart, you’ll figure it out. You’re a survivor. Aren’t you? And I’ll be here for you. I’ll be your friend.”

Rachel stared at him. “Why do you want to do this for me?” she asked.

“Because I want to finish what my aunt started,” Jesse said.

Walt stared at him too.

“If you let me help you Rachel,” Jesse said. “You’ll be giving me a gift.”

Rachel stared. The four people in the room were silent, unmoving.

Then Mr. White’s cellphone rang.

“Excuse me.” Mr. White left.

Robert said, “Miss Rachel, if I were you, I’d go with him.”

Rachel looked at him. “But what about your job?”

“Don’t worry about my job,” Robert said. “I made the decision to risk it when I brought you here. And if you went with him, it would be worth losing it.”

Rachel closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Mr. White was back in the room. “Thanks Lachlan.” He closed his cellphone. Looked at Jesse. “Well we’ve got our material,” he said.

“What is it?” Jesse asked.

Mr. White looked at Rachel. “You know you’re not Michael’s first slave,” he said. “And you won’t be the last.”

“I know,” Rachel said quietly. “Allyson was his slave, before. When she was younger. And there’s been others.”

“Well he’s already grooming the next one,” Mr. White said. “Or two or three.”

“What?” Jesse exclaimed.

“You’re starting to get a little old for him, Rachel,” Mr. White said. “How old are you now?”

“I’m turning twenty two in October.”

“So you’re getting there. He seems to turn them around at twenty-three, four. And he has a pipeline. He’s a philanthropist. For talented, underprivileged youth. For scholarships. Like the one you received, right Rachel? For the piano?”

Rachel looked down. “Yes.”

“Yes. And he provides these scholarships to schools are all over the world. South Africa. Canada. The U.K. New Zealand. English speaking countries.  To pretty, talented students like yourself. Who don't have someone looking out for them. And when he identifies an attractive prospect, he gets close to them. Like he did with you, right Rachel? Becomes your mentor. Your benefactor. Your daddy. And eventually offers you a future beyond your wildest dreams. A home in the States. The best education, the best start possible. In return for a few critical years of your life.”

“It's a fair trade,” Rachel said defensively.

“But is it though?” Jesse asked her. “If you had a sister, Rachel, would you want her to make a trade like that? Or would you just _give_ her the opportunity, because you cared…and because you could? I know I would never force that kind of choice on my brother.”

“Michael loves me,” Rachel said. “And I love him. I have for years.”

Mr. White and Jesse looked at each other.

“What are you going to do?” Jesse asked Mr. White quietly.

“I _was_ going to have a word with him, at breakfast. Outline a quid pro quo scenario for him, so to speak. And then we’d be on our way. But now I guess our next steps depend on Rachel, here.” Both men looked at her.

“Rachel, the way Michael found you was wrong,” Jesse said. “And I’m sorry, but now that I know, I’m going to do something about it. And I don’t think life is going to get easier for you here because of that. And to be honest, it looks like he’s starting to let you go. I think that performance he forced on us was a message to _you._ And I know you did too.”

Rachel stared at him, silent.

Mr. White was also looking at him. “Er…Jesse…our strategy was more about implying we could do something…not _actually_ doing something.”

Jesse turned on him. “Mr. White, you can’t be serious about letting this asshole keep on like this.”

Mr. White sighed. “What do you want to do then?” he asked Jesse.

Jesse turned to Rachel. “I guess that depends on you,” he said to her.

Rachel was staring ahead blindly. “That’s what Michael said to me,” she said tonelessly.

“What did he say?” Jesse asked.

“The gift.  He said…I was giving him a priceless gift. With my submission.”

“He wasn’t wrong,” Jesse said quietly.

“He loved me.  He said so.”  

“Did he ever say why?”

“Yes.”

Jesse looked at her, waiting.

“He said he loved me because…I was exactly what he wanted,” Rachel continued.

 _“What_ he wanted,” Jesse said. “Not who?”

“…No.”

Jesse was silent. Looked at her.

Rachel put her face in her hands. “I’m not what he’s wants anymore, am I?”

“No. Or not soon.”

Rachel was crying.

“But Rachel, that’s okay,” Jesse said. “Don’t you see? He loved you because you were the right type for him. His ideal slave. He didn’t love you for _you._ If he did, he wouldn’t be planning to replace you when you’ve passed his mental expiry date.”

He took her hands. “But you’re still here. Right? Just because you’re not his type anymore doesn’t stop you from being you.”

Rachel’s hands lay passively in his. “I don’t know who I am anymore,” she said quietly.

Jesse’s thumbs stroked her. “That’s because you gave him that priceless gift,” he replied gently. “What did you think your submission to him was?”

Rachel closed her eyes. “It was…me.”

“That’s right,” Jesse said. “That was your gift.”

Rachel was silent. Jesse held her hands.

Then she opened her eyes. Looked at him. “It’s time to take it back.”

Jesse nodded. “Yes.”

“I don’t know where to begin,” Rachel whispered.

“Come with us,” Jesse said. “I’ll help you begin.”

Rachel didn’t respond. Jesse glanced at Mr. White. Mr. White returned his gaze silently then looked away.

Rachel was staring beyond Jesse’s face at some indeterminate point. Then he felt her hands curl into his. She gripped his fingers tightly. Looked at him.

Said, “I have pets. I need to take them with me.”

“We can do that.” Jesse looked quickly again at Mr. White. Mr. White opened his mouth to say something then closed it.  Looked resigned.

“What do you have?” Walt asked her.

“Two cats. And a puppy. And a…turtle.”

Walt sighed. “Okay. And I guess you’d better pack a bag. Until we can make arrangements for the rest of your things. And Jesse,” looking at his partner. “We’d better pack too. If we’re taking Rachel with us, we should leave as soon as possible. Now, in fact. I’d rather accomplish this before there’s a lot of people around who might have opinions about this. I’ll follow up with Michael later today around that other matter.”

“You said you were going to…stop him?” Rachel asked. “From finding other girls the same way he found me?”

“Yes.” Jesse said briefly.

Walt looked at him.

“Michael was good to me,” Rachel said. “In his way. I mean, he never _lied_ to me. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him.”

Jesse considered this. “Nothing bad will happen to him,” he said. “In fact, things are about to get better for him. He thinks he’s like this ultimate dom, right? Like he’s the king of the castle and you’re his beautiful slave princess. Well he’s about to discover a whole new level of game.”

Walt, Rachel and Robert looked at him. “What do you mean?” Rachel asked.

Walt’s looked thoughtful. Then he smiled suddenly. “I think what Jesse means…is that Michael is first and foremost a connoisseur. Am I right, Jesse?”

“Um…yeah. If that’s what you mean by he’s a snob than, yeah. ”

“That he only partakes of the finest things in life,” Walt explained to Rachel. “The finest foods, the finest…sensory experiences. And the finest slaves. He was going on about that to me when we were chatting at breakfast.  What makes the best slave.”

“Yes…” Rachel was starting to sound irritated. “I understand that about him. So what?”

“So…” Jesse said. “We’re going to set Michael straight on his definitions. Re-position his understanding of that finest slave thing. And what he’ll have to do, if he wants one. And it’s not the way he found you, by the way. And _then_ …we’re giving him some incentive to follow our recommendations…to the letter. Sound about right, Mr. White?”

“Yes,” Mr. White replied. “I’m calling Lachlan again, we need to tweak the…incentive in light of this development. You, I mean.” He smiled at Rachel. “In the meantime, could you pack and bring everything back here? And we’ll have to make arrangements for my car. Robert, do you know where it is?”

“Yes, I’ll bring it around for you.”

“Thanks very much.”

Rachel looked distraught. “Jesse, Michael’s going to find out I’m not downstairs any minute. And he’ll come looking for me. And when he finds me packing he’ll be furious. He’s not going to want me to leave. I’m scared of what he’ll say.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jesse said.

“No,” Walt said quickly. “I don’t want you wandering about this place, Jesse. It was Michael’s interest in you that started this whole thing, remember?”

“I’ll go with her, Mr. Hermann,” said Robert. Walt smiled at him. “It’s Dr. White, actually, Robert. Not Mr. Hermann. As you’ve probably gathered. And thank you. Do you expect you’ll run into Mr. Adams?”

Robert looked worried. “Probably.”

Walt considered him. “Would you like to come with us?” he said.

Robert smiled at him. “Thanks Dr. White, I have my own car. But I’ll probably be right behind you. He’s going to fire me as soon as he sees me.”

Walt nodded. “You’re a decent man, Robert. We’ll find a place for you in our company if you want it.”

Robert looked surprised. “I appreciate that Dr. White,” he said gratefully.

“Jesse will look into it. Jesse?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Jesse said.

Walt went to the desk, retrieved a pad of paper. Wrote his cellphone number on it and handed it to Robert. “If there’s any trouble, call me.”

“I will. Miss Rachel, shall we go?”

Rachel frowned. “I still don’t understand what you’re doing to Michael.”

Jesse smiled at her. “It’ll be fine, Rachel, I promise. You don’t have to worry about him anymore. Just think about yourself now, okay?”

“I’d feel better if you’d tell me,” Rachel said.

“I’m introducing him to the concept of freedom,” Jesse replied.


	33. Chapter 33

Robert and Rachel had left.  Walt and Jesse looked at each other.

“I’d better make that phone call,” Walt said.

“Yeah.”

Walt looked at Jesse again, started to say something, then stopped.  He picked up his cellphone, dialled out.

Jesse walked back to the bedroom, opened the suitcase on the bed.  Started packing.

Walt came in.  “Rachel coming with us actually works out well,” he said.  “The story she could tell.”

“I know,” Jesse replied.

Walt hesitated.  Then spoke.  “I heard what you said.”

Jesse didn’t look up.  “About what?” he asked.

“About your aunt,” Walt said quietly.  “About finishing what she meant to do, for you.”

“Yeah.”

“I always thought it was me, who picked up where she left off.  But it wasn’t, was it?”

“No.”

“Jesse… you know that I appreciate your gift,” Walt said.

Jesse straightened, met his eyes.  “I know.”

“I see you.”  Walt said to Jesse, after a moment.

“Yes.”  Jesse didn’t say anything more. 

“I love you,” Walt whispered.  His eyes were sad.

Jesse went over to him.  Put his arms around the older man, embraced him.  Walt’s arms circled Jesse’s waist.  “I know,” Jesse said.   “Thank you.”

Walt was motionless for a moment.  Then he dropped his face into Jesse’s neck. 

***

Jesse was silent.

Walt held him.  Eventually said, “You were really out of bounds, tonight.”

Jesse smiled slightly.  “I know.”

“Inviting that girl into our family,” Walt said musingly.  “Without even _checking_ with me.  Being sassy with our host.  Creating this whole situation.”

Jesse leaned into him.  Sighed.  “I feel bad about what happened to Rachel because of me.”

“Yes,” Walt agreed.  “That _was_ reckless of you.  But I’ll punish you for it, don’t worry.”

Jesse raised his head, looked up at Walt’s face.  “I thought you said you _wouldn’t_ punish me.”

“I said I wouldn’t punish you _tonight_.  I didn’t say there wouldn’t be consequences.  I just have to determine something appropriate.”

Jesse moved closer to him.  “Mr. White, you’re making me nervous,” he whispered.   

Walt put a hand very lightly on his sore bottom.  “That’s a reasonable reaction,” he said mildly.  “But we’ll talk about that later.  First things first.  We need to look into a flight.  I’d booked a flight for later in the day, but I think it’s best to get home as soon as possible.  Rachel’s in no shape to hang around waiting for hours and I don’t imagine you want to, either.  And now that we’re apparently travelling with a menagerie, we have to deal with that as well.  I need you to look into flights right away.”

“Okay.  So what’s the deal with Lachlan?”

Walt looked down.  “Well…Michael bears watching.”

“Do you think he’ll say something to Hank?” Jesse asked.

Walt shrugged.  “What’s the point in him saying anything to Hank if Hank already knows?”

“But he doesn’t though.”

“But _Michael_ doesn’t know that, does he?”  Walt smiled.

“Is that what you’re planning to tell him?”

“In so many words, yes.”

Jesse was quiet.  Then said.  “So…am I going to speak with Michael or are you?”

Walt was still looking away.  “About what?”

“About…him stopping this perverted thing he has going.  With _kids.”_

Walt sighed.  “Jesse, do you really think anything we can _say_ to him will force him to stop that?”

“Mr. White, we can’t let that go on, now that we know.”

Walt met his eyes.  “So…what are you prepared to do?  Are you thinking of threatening him with the law?”

“…Maybe.  As you said, Rachel has a story.”

“No Jesse.  We can’t do that.  _We_ have a story too you know.  That I’d rather keep quiet.”

“Mr. White, I’m not letting this go.”

Walt sighed.  “I know.  That’s why I’m having Lachlan take care of it.  After a bit of time has passed.”

“…No Mr. White.  We agreed we wouldn’t do that anymore.”

“I don’t think we have a choice.”

“I promised Rachel nothing bad would happen to him.”

“She’ll never know.  We’ll do it discreetly.”

“No.”

“Jesse…what do you think is the alternative, here?”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“And say…what, exactly?  What kind of argument can you make that will convince him to change his whole method?  Other than offering him yourself, of course.”

“What!”

“That’s what he wants.”

“I’m not doing _that.”_

“Well…that’s a weight off my mind.”

“Shut up.”

“Jesse, I understand you have good intentions.  And I appreciate that you want to live up to that promise you made to Rachel –you were very impressive with her, by the way.”

“I wasn’t trying to _impress_ her, Mr. White.”

“Sure.  But anyway…despite your confidence, I think this will come down to him or us.  Which these kinds of things always do, sooner or later.”

“Mr. White…you promised me.”

“I promised I would never ask _you_ to hurt anyone.  Not that no one would ever be hurt.”

“No more ghosts,” Jesse said.

Walt looked at him.  Jesse was looking down.  His face was tired.

“I’m sorry, Jesse,” he said softly.

“Yeah.”

Walt was quiet.  Then he said, “How about this.  We leave our options open, for the moment.  See how the situation develops.”   

Jesse rolled his eyes.  “We wouldn't have _had_ this situation, if you hadn’t dragged me here.”

“Are you sorry we came?” Walt asked him, smiling.

Jesse stared.  Then laughed, ruefully.  “No.”

Walt stopped smiling.  “No more ghosts Jesse.  I promise.”

Jesse gazed at him silently.

Walt’s cellphone rang.  Robert’s voice.  “Dr. White, it’s Robert.  I’m going to need some help.  Rachel can’t lift anything.”

“Okay.  I’ll come to you.  How do I get there—just a moment.”  Walt turned to Jesse.  “I’m going to Robert and Rachel.  You stay here and figure out the flight.”

“Okay.”

“And Jesse,” Walt paused.  “Don’t go anywhere.   Don’t disappear on me.  And don’t let anyone in.”

Jesse shook his head at him.  “What could happen?”

“Let’s not find out.”  Walt kissed him on the brow, then left.

***

Jesse had just finished speaking with a buddy in Pasadena who ran charter flights.  He’d considered flying everyone back himself (his own plane was within easy driving distance), but decided that between his lingering physical discomfort and the stress and lack of sleep over the last twenty four hours, it was best not to push it.  His friend was less than delighted to be woken in the middle of the night, but agreed to help. 

He’d finished packing.  Took stock of himself.  His body felt worn and sore.  He didn’t feel much like climbing into his suit.  And they hadn’t brought any comfortable clothes with them.   Mr. White would be back soon.  Jesse decided to have a quick shower before getting dressed.

He walked naked out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel.  There was a man sitting at the desk.  It wasn’t Mr. White.

“Hello Mr. Pinkman,” Michael said.

Jesse stopped, staring.  Michael gazed back.  “Don’t look so shocked,” he said.  “You know I know who you are.  You and Dr. White.  You’re quite the pair aren’t you?  Does the rest of your little clan know how you got your start?”

“Of course they do,” Jesse said.  “It’s no secret.  Don’t you read Forbes?”

“Of course.”  Michael stopped speaking, looked at him.

Jesse wrapped the towel around his waist.  Crossed his arms.  “What are you doing here, asshole?”

“I wanted to see you,” Michael said.

“Rachel’s coming with us,” Jesse said shortly.

“So I understand.”

“You shouldn’t have whipped her like that.  For something I did.  That was disgusting.”

Michael smiled.  “You’re not the only one who can use her body to send a message.”

“I wasn’t using her to send a message, asshole!”

“Oh yes you were.  Fucking my slave like that.  That showed a lot of initiative.  And I got the message alright.”

“Not everything is about you, you conceited piece of shit.”

“Language, Mr. Pinkman.”

“Look asshole, I want to get dressed and I’m not doing that in front of you.  So if you don’t have anything else to say, get out.”

“You know,” Michael said musingly, “I’ve looked at your face for hours.  Hours.  From the first picture I saw, when Dr. White contacted us.   And then all the rest.  Every picture I could get my hands on.  There were surprisingly few.  You keep yourself out of sight, don’t you?  Or is it Dr. White who keeps you out of sight?”

“So you’re a stalker as well as a pervert.”  Jesse snorted.  “Surprising.”

Michael ignored this.  “When you look long and hard at something, things start to surface.  Shapes begin to emerge.   And I’ve been staring into those blue eyes of yours.  Staring endlessly down.  There’s no bottom to them, is there?  And eventually…I saw them looking back at me.  And do you know what I saw then?”

“I really don’t care.”

“But you should, Mr. Pinkman.  I’m here to share my knowledge with you.  For your benefit.”

Jesse stared at him.  Michael stood up.  “Get dressed,” he said.  “I’ll wait in the other room.”

Jesse joined him a few minutes later, dressed.  Michael was sitting in one of the armchairs.  Jesse took a chair across from him.  Looked at Michael silently.  Michael smiled at him.  “How’s your bottom?”

“None of your business.”

Michael nodded.  “Fair enough.  So are you ready to hear what I know?”

“I don’t know,” Jesse said.  “Am I?”

Michael smiled.  “I think you are.”  The smile left his face.  He regarded at Jesse thoughtfully.

Jesse looked back.  “Well?” he asked.

Michael smiled again.  “You don’t know why you’re with Dr. White, do you?”

Jesse stared at him silently.

 “You don’t love him,” Michael said.  “You’re not with him because of that.”

Jesse scowled.  “How can you say that?” 

Michael raised his eyebrows.  “Am I wrong?  Contradict me.”

Jesse didn’t say anything. 

“I didn’t think so,” Michael said. 

“Make your point asshole,” Jesse replied.

“You wish you could,” Michael said.  “Love him.  You have from the beginning.  Haven’t you?  Wished that.”

Jesse didn’t answer.

“And he has loved _you_ from the beginning,” Michael continued.  “And it makes him crazy that he doesn’t get that back.”

Jesse looked away.

“And he punishes you for that,” Michael said.  “Relentlessly.   He punishes you in bed.  For the pleasure you both take in it.  Because that’s the game you play with each other.  That you engage in the punishment for the pleasure.  That the punishment alone is not your mutual purpose.”

Michael looked at Jesse.   “And you take it,” he said softly.  “You seek it.  You abandon yourself to it.  Because you know that’s all you can give him.”

He looked at Jesse, waiting.

“…And you got all this from a photograph?” Jesse’s voice was sarcastic.

Michael nodded.  “Those blue eyes, Mr. Pinkman.   They say all that needs to be said.”

Jesse snorted.  “You’re reading something from nothing.  You’re nuts.”

“I don’t think so,” Michael replied.  “And yes.  I _am_ reading something from nothing.  Because that’s what’s behind those blue eyes Mr. Pinkman.  A vast and lightless space.  The abyss.”

Jesse stared at him.  “You don’t know what you’re looking at,” he said, eventually.

“Don’t I?” 

Jesse didn’t answer.

“That space inside you causes you great pain, doesn’t it?” Michael said, conversationally.  “It’s behind everything you do.  Everything you see.  Bleeds into every colour of the world.  Echoes behind every sound.” 

Jesse was silent.

“And you’re desperate to escape it,” Michael continued.  “You long for that.  You reach out, with your hungry gaze.  That gaze that hooked your partner like a fish.  But you know it’s futile.  Because the abyss is seductive, isn’t it Mr. Pinkman?  A vacuum, sucking you in.   And the moment you are closest to another person, that’s when its call is the loudest.  And you long for that as well.  And you look out at those who love you from an unbridgeable distance.”

Jesse looked up.  “Ah yes,” Michael said softly.  “That’s the gaze.  That raw, lovely gaze.  The one that says, _`Hurt me…’_ Because you tire of the struggle, don’t you?  That exhausting struggle to preserve yourself against the empty call.  And your eyes turn beseechingly to your partner.”

Jesse stared.  Michael continued.  “And he responds, doesn’t he?  He answers your lovely request.  The pain he inflicts on your body.  What do you think that is?” 

“…The contract,” Jesse answered quietly.

Michael smiled.  “That’s your name for it then?  Yes.  The contract.  You entrust yourself to your partner and he takes that struggle away.  That painful choice between the longing and the longing.  And you surrender to what you _really_ want.  And what is that, Mr. Pinkman?”

Jesse was silent.

“Shall I say the words for you?”

Jesse was silent.

“Very well.  It is to _break._   To let yourself be broken beyond recognizable form.  And without certainty you will ever return.  The perfect annihilation of self.  That’s what you really long for.”

Jesse didn’t answer.

“He’ll never give it to you, you know,” Michael continued.  “He’ll bring you close, so close, because he loves you and he knows that’s what you want.  And because of his own rage at you, for not loving him in return.  But he’ll always pull you back.  He doesn’t have the heart to break you completely.   Not in the way you want.  Because he loves you too much.  His final desire is to rescue, not destroy.  And so he’ll preserve you, against your deepest wish.  And your struggle will continue.”

Michael leaned forward.  “But I can do it,” he said softly.  “I can break you.  By the time I’m finished with you, you won’t know yourself any longer.  That painful struggle will be finished.  If you let me.”

Jesse considered him.  Then said, “Why should I?  And what makes you think you have the right to even ask?”

“Because I understand you, Mr. Pinkman,” Michael replied.  “We’re on the same page, you and I.”

“I’m _nothing_ like you,” Jesse said.

“Oh really?” Michael answered.  “It’s as plain as day, to me.  The addict.  The _dealer._   I know it was you, who introduced Dr. White to meth.”

Jesse drew back.

Michael smiled.  “I took the trouble to find out a bit about you.  You were a small time meth dealer weren’t you?  With quite a loyal clientele.  Especially women.  And young girls, your age at the time.  You turned a few down the wrong path, didn’t you?  That seductive road to self destruction you’re so familiar with.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jesse said briefly.

“Yes you do.  You understand me, just as I understand you.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Michael said.  “You judge me for what I did to Rachel.  But what did I really do, other than give her an unconventional choice?   She could have said no, you know.  Just like your clients could have said no.”

“She was a vulnerable kid, you bastard!” Jesse snapped.  “You pushed yourself into her life like a manipulative fuck.  She was way too young.”

“I see,” Michael replied.  “And how old were you when you started dealing?  Or _pushing,_ as they say?  Selling drugs to other children your age?  In exchange for sex, sometimes?  And what did those poor souls end up with, from transacting with you?  Rachel receives an expensive education and a future.  What did _your_ clients receive?”

 Jesse looked at him, upset. 

“Are you going to take no responsibility?”  Michael asked.  “Tell yourself they were already on that road?”

Jesse didn’t answer.

“I know you Mr. Pinkman.  Do you think you’re the only one with darkness behind your eyes?   I too look out from the abyss.  But unlike you, I don’t deny it.  I dwell there.  I swim there.”

“Sounds like you’re pretty happy there, asshole.”

Michael shrugged again.  “What’s happiness?  A meaningless word.  An illusion pursued by fools.”

“You’re full of bullshit.”

“No, Mr. Pinkman, that’s you.  I’m awake, that’s all, to how things really are.  And so are you, you just don’t want to admit it.” 

“Admit what?”

“That when you take the trouble to _really look_ , there’s _really nothing there._   An empty landscape.  A void.  Boring as hell, really.  I know you know what I mean.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because you’re playing the same game.   The same game I play, to divert myself from that painful, endless ennui.  The game I play, with those I enslave.  Except _you_ play it with yourself.”

“And what game is that, exactly?”

“The exquisite game of _self destruction_ , Mr. Pinkman.   You’re familiar with it.  What _happens_ to a slave, upon their exposure to the void?  An amusing question.  A game that has diverted me for years.”

“Well you’re not going to enjoy it anymore, asshole.”  Jesse said.

“I know,” Michael replied. 

Jesse looked at him.

“I _don’t_ enjoy it anymore, actually,” Michael said.  “It’s become mechanical to me, boring, like everything else.” 

“So you’re stopping.” Jesse said.

“If you come to me, I’ll stop.”  Michael answered.

Jesse was quiet.  Then asked, “Why me, specifically?”

Michael shrugged.  “Because I like to think I…see things.  In people.”

“And so…you’ve seen something in me?” Jesse asked.

“Yes.”

“That you _want.”_

“That’s right.”

“Enough to stop with all of your other sick shit.”

“Yes.  That’s right.”

“Well what is it then, asshole?” Jesse asked.  “What makes me so special?” 

Michael smiled at him.  “You’re different, Mr. Pinkman.  A different kind of slave.  Your submission has a different flavour.  A teasing, knowing quality that enchants me.  You know what you’re about, don’t you?   You deliberate every time, biting your lip, before succumbing to that delicious self annihilating dance.   And you _play_ with the abyss.  You _flirt_ with it, using Dr. White as your instrument.”

Jesse was silent.

“To watch you play –that has aroused me,” Michael said.  “Awoken me from my boredom.  Distracted me from that ever more compelling desire for my own demise.”  

“Don’t let me hold you up,” Jesse said to him.

Michael laughed.  “Dr. White is not a fitting companion for you.  He’ll never master you.  Never own you in the way you crave.  He loves you too much to destroy you.  You’re safe with him, and you know it.  And what’s the fun in that?  It’s me you want.”

“I wasn’t looking for you.”

“I know.  But you’ve found me, nonetheless.”

Jesse was silent.  Then said, “You’re wrong about me.”

“How so?”

“I’m with Mr. White because I’m free,” Jesse said.  “Not because I’m self destructive.”

Michael looked at him, surprised.  “`Freedom’ doesn’t exist,” he said.  “It’s just another empty word.”

“Freedom exists,” Jesse answered.  “Just not for _you._   But that doesn’t mean you don’t want it.  You want it bad.”

“And why would you say that?”

“Because you want what I have with Mr. White.  You just don’t know what you’re looking at.” 

“…So what am I looking at then?”

Jesse smiled at him.  “The best thing going,” he answered softly.  “ _You’ve_ never had anything like it.   And the way you’re doing things, you never will.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed.  “Why are you so sure about that?” he asked.

“Because you’ll never have it if you can’t see what it is,” Jesse answered.

Michael gazed at him thoughtfully.  Jesse was smiling at him.  Then his smile faded.  He watched Michael silently.

“So how do I see?” Michael asked, eventually.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes Mr. Pinkman.  Enlighten me.”

“Okay,” Jesse said.  “Let’s start with those other kids.  The scholarship students.   Give them everything you were planning to give them.  But do it now.  Up front.  No pressure.  No trade.  Give them their big opportunity just because.  Because you can help them.”

Michael was silent.  Then said, “You’ve done your homework I see.”

“You’re not the only one who can,” Jesse said.

“And why should I be so generous?”  Michael asked.  “What do I have to gain?”

“Because in the only game worth playing, the players are free,” Jesse replied.  “And I think you know that.”

“Like you with Dr. White.”

“Like that.”

“So you’re free…meaning what?”  Michael asked.

“I’m free meaning _anything,_ asshole.  Free to do anything.  Free to be anything.  Or free to _not_ be anything.  I’m not attached to who I am.  I’m free to make the choice, every time.”

“You’re not free,” Michael said.  “You’re enslaved to Dr. White.”

Jesse smiled.  “I gave myself to Mr. White.  To do whatever he wants, with me.  _Including_ breaking me, if that’s what he wants.  And that’s part of the freedom.” 

Michael stared at him.

Jesse continued.  “You say you live in the abyss.  And you’ve made this whole lifestyle of dragging people down with you for company.  Well I _explore_ the abyss, bitch.  And Mr. White’s my doorway.”

Michael was silent, watching him. 

“Stop looking for slaves,” Jesse said to him.  “Play the game with people who are free.   I guarantee you’ll never be bored again.”

Michael considered.  “And when exactly did you figure this out?” he asked.

Jesse shrugged.  “This morning.”

“This morning!”

“Yeah.”

Michael was silent.  Then said, “You’re deceiving yourself.  You don’t explore the abyss.  You’ve given yourself to it. You’ve emptied yourself into Dr. White. You’ve achieved self destruction without my help after all.”

“Emptiness isn’t self destruction,” Jesse replied.  

“I look into your eyes,” Michael said, “and the abyss looks back.”

“That’s not the abyss,” Jesse said.

“Then what is it?” Michael asked.

“Space.”

_“…Space?”_

“Space, asshole.  That’s what’s looking back at you.  The final frontier.   The whole fucking universe.”

***

They were both quiet.

“You’re a magnificent slave,” Michael said, eventually.

 “I _am_ pretty awesome,” Jesse agreed.

“Cheeky too.”

“Yup.”

“You’re wasted on Dr. White,” Michael said.

Jesse shrugged.  “As long as he’s happy, I’m happy.”

“But you don’t love him,” Michael said.  “Do you?”

“That’s between me and him.”

Michael was quiet.  Then said, “I’m not waiting for another slave like you to cross my path.  How do I convince you to come to me?”

Jesse shook his head.  “You never will.  But in any case, that’s not up to me.  It’s up to Mr. White.”

 “I’ll convince him then,” Michael said.

“You’ll rile him,” Jesse replied.  “And that’s risky.”

“I think both he and I are aware of the risks.”

Jesse looked at him.  Shook his head.  “It’s your funeral, asshole.  But I guess you’ll get what you want, either way.”

***

The door to the suite opened. 

Mr. White entered, with Rachel and Robert trailing behind him.   His eyes narrowed at the sight of Michael and Jesse.   He set down the boxes he was carrying.

Michael stood up.  Jesse remained seated.  He glanced up at Mr. White.  His partner was staring at him coldly.

“Good evening _Dr. White,_ ” Michael said.  “Or perhaps I should say good morning.”

Walt didn’t acknowledge the use of his real name.  “Good morning Mr. Adams,” he replied calmly.  His eyes stayed on Jesse.

“I understand you’re taking my slave with you.”

“Yes.”

Michael looked at Robert, who stood awkwardly near the door, two pet carriers in his hands.  “You’re fired.”

“Yes sir.”  Robert turned to Walt.  “I’ll bring your car around.”

“Thank you Robert.”

Robert left.

Michael looked at Rachel.  “You’ve saddened me, dearheart.”

“I’m sorry, Michael,” Rachel whispered.  “Can you forgive me?”

Jesse snorted.

Michael glanced at him.  Then said, “Of course I can.  I love you my dear.”

Jesse snorted again.

Both Michael and Rachel looked at him.

Then Michael said, still looking at Jesse.  “Dr. White, have you considered my proposal?”

“I have.”  Walt didn’t elaborate.

“In its various aspects.”

“Yes.”

“You know,” Michael said musingly, “I’ve watched Rachel grow up.  I have a sense of responsibility towards her, as I’m sure you understand.  Would you take it amiss if I visited her?  Saw her well situated with you and your…family?”

“Not at all,” Walt said.  “If that’s what Rachel wants, of course.”  Jesse stared at him.

Michael glanced at Rachel.  She was looking down.  “Well…I’ll leave it to the two of you to discuss.  But I would appreciate a visit very much.  It would be of great comfort to me, knowing Rachel was with people who accepted her despite her….unconventional….background.   Where she wouldn’t have to _hide_ who she was.  It can be so burdensome to have to keep secrets, don’t you agree?  From people who may be… unaccepting of the truth?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Walt said mildly.  “The members of _my_ family have always been very accepting.  Open minded you know, all of them.  Jesse and I wouldn’t have been able to do what we’ve...done…with our company, without the unconditional support of my family.   _Especially_ during the early days.   I’m sure Rachel’s experience of them won’t be any different.”

“I see,” Michael said.  “So I can expect Rachel to be welcomed by your clan with open arms?”

“Well I wouldn’t call us a clan,” Walt said.  “There’s not that many of us.  Only my wife’s sister and my… _brother-in-law_ , really, in addition to my own wife and children.   But everyone will welcome Rachel with open arms if we ask them to, I’m sure.  We stick together where it matters.”   He looked at Michael.

“You are fortunate,” Michael said finally. 

“Yes,” Walt agreed.  “Very blessed.”

“Dr. White,” Michael hesitated, “I know you declined my earlier request to provide your Jesse with enhanced training.   But I hope you won’t consider it discourteous if I ask you again?  As a…simple favour, if you will?  In light of my losing my own, very dear slave so unexpectedly?”  Michael smiled at Walt tentatively.

Walt smiled back.   “Not at all,” he replied.  “I’ve thought about your proposal carefully and I’m happy to say I’ve reconsidered.  Jesse will be going on an extended business trip soon, but he’ll be back in November.  I’ll send him to you then.  Would four weeks be enough, do you think?”

Michael wore an expression of pleased surprise.  Walt glanced at Jesse.  He was white.

“I’m honoured, Dr. White, by your trust,” Michael said.  “Four weeks is an optimal timeframe for total immersion in captivity.  And we’ll be careful with him, I assure you.  Treat him like the precious commodity he is.”

“I’m sure you will.  And you will respect my stipulations of course.”

“Of course.  May I ask what they are?”

“Jesse is to have no sexual contact with any men.  Disciplinary contact only.  Although men may watch, should you allow him to have sexual pleasure.”

Michael was nodding.  “Of course.   You might be interested to know that there’s very little sexual pleasure involved at the advanced training stage.  Other than for humiliation purposes of course, when appropriate.  Most of the activity is truly disciplinary.”

“Very good.  And I will expect regular reports on his progress.”

“That won’t be a problem at all.  We provide daily reports, from both the trainers and the slave.  Your Jesse can update you himself.  And you can always link in via live video feed.”

“Thank you, I’d enjoy that.”

“Mr. White-“ Jesse began.

Walt glanced at him coldly.  “Did I say you could speak?”

Jesse closed his mouth.  He looked at Walt pleadingly.

Michael regarded Jesse smugly.  “That type of behaviour is precisely what we address, Dr. White.  After we’re finished with your Jesse, the thought of speaking out of turn won’t even cross his mind.  We should connect at a more convenient time to work out an agenda.  I have some recommendations.”

“I’m sure you do,” Walt said.  “And I look forward to hearing them.  But now if you don’t mind, we should take our leave.  We’ve all had a long night.”

“Yes,” Michael said.  “May I ask for a moment of privacy to say goodbye to my Rachel?”

“Of course.  Jesse, come.”  Walt gestured to Jesse to rise, then walked towards the bedroom.  Jesse followed him wordlessly. 

***

 Walt shut the door behind them.

“Are you _nuts?”_   Jesse hissed.  “How could you tell that asshole you were sending me to him?”

Walt slapped him sharply across the face.  “I told you not to let anyone in,” he snapped.  “And why didn’t you call me the minute he showed up?”

Jesse’s hand went to his stinging cheek.  He stared at Walt, hurt.  “He let himself in, Mr. White.  And I was trying to talk to him.  You know?”

Walt’s expression softened.  He bent and kissed Jesse lightly on his hurt cheek.  “I’m sorry, Jesse.  I shouldn’t have slapped you.”

Jesse nodded. 

Then said, “You’re not serious, Mr. White?  About sending me to him?”

Walt lifted an eyebrow.  “Why, you don’t want to go?”

Jesse’s voice rose.  “What kind of question is that?  And you promised you wouldn’t allow him to punish me.  Remember?”

“I’ve reconsidered.”

“But Mr. White, you _promised!”_

“And you promised you’d obey me.  Remember?”

Jesse stared at him, distraught.  “Mr. White...please don’t _(betray me)_ break your promise.   Please.”

Walt looked back.  “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

Tears rose in Jesse’s eyes.  “Mr. White, please, please don’t make me do this,” he whispered.

“I’m not making you do anything Jesse,” Walt answered.  “It’s ultimately your choice.”

“But _why?”_

Walt shrugged.  “Do I have to give you a reason?”

Jesse’s lips were trembling.  He pressed them together.  Spoke in a calmer voice.  “Mr. White…I _trusted_ you.  Don’t I have a right to know why you changed your mind?”

“Do you trust me now?”  Walt asked him.

“Mr. White—“

“Do you?”

Jesse was breathing hard.  He looked down.  “…Yes.”

“Well if you trust me you don’t need a reason to do as I ask,” Walt said.  “You just do it.  You obey me.” 

Jesse stood rigidly still.  He had closed his eyes tightly.  Walt could see he was struggling with tears.  He walked over to Jesse and pulled him against his chest.  Felt Jesse hesitate.  Then his arms went around Walt's waist.  He buried his face into the hollow of Walt’s throat.   

Walt stroked Jesse’s back.  “Trust me.” 

Jesse was clinging to him.  He didn’t answer.

Walt bent his head, nuzzled his face against Jesse’s temple.  Kissed him.  “Trust me,” he repeated.  Felt Jesse take a shaky breath.

Walt drew back a bit, put his fingers under Jesse’s chin, tilting his face up.  Jesse stared at him, his expression shattered.  Walt gazed at the blue eyes.  Then kissed him.  Felt Jesse’s mouth open under his. 

“Trust me Jesse,” he whispered.  Kissed him again.   _"Trust me.”_

Jesse was leaning into him, holding on tightly.  He was breathing raggedly against Walt’s mouth.  Walt kissed him again.  “You trust me, Jesse.  Say it.”

Tears were on Jesse’s face.  He lowered his head, resting his wet cheek against Walt.  “I trust you,” he whispered into Walt’s chest.

Walt rocked him.  He kissed Jesse again, putting his face into the fluffy hair.  “You will obey me,” he said to him.

“Yes,” Jesse answered softly.

“I love you,” Walt whispered.  “And Jesse—“ he put his hands on Jesse’s shoulders, looked down at his face.  “I trust you too.  I trust you with my life.  You know that, don’t you?”

Jesse looked back. 

Eventually nodded. 

***

Jesse, Walt, Michael and Rachel were standing together in the front room.

Michael was holding Rachel’s hands.  She was crying, quietly. 

“Are we ready then?” Walt asked him. 

“Yes, thank you.  May I offer you some assistance with Rachel’s things?”

“No thank you, Jesse and I can manage.”

“Very well.  So…we’lI see your Jesse again in November?”

“Yes.  I’ll follow up with you on the training deliverables once I’ve had a chance to consider them further.”

“Very good.  I’m looking forward to our next time with him with great anticipation.”  Michael smiled at Jesse.

Walt nodded.  “Indeed.  There is a condition, however, attached to his attendance.”  He looked at Michael inquiringly. 

Michael gestured for him to continue.  “Please.”

“I must ask that Rachel be the last person you raise to be a slave,” Walt said.  “You will change your recruitment methods, going forward.”

Michael nodded.  “I can do that.  Your Jesse and I were conversing on that very matter, actually, just before you returned.  He’s opened my eyes to the possibility of an even more exquisite, rarified submission.  A dance on a whole other level.”  Michael gazed at Jesse, smiling.  Then said, still looking at him. “And I apologize, by the way, for speaking to him without your permission.  May I ask that you not be too hard on him, for entertaining me?  I take full responsibility for being importunate.  I was somewhat upset, as you can imagine.”

“Yes.  I understand tonight’s circumstances have been trying for everyone.  So…I trust that you will honour the condition?”

“Yes Dr. White, you may trust me, on that.”

“Thank you.  Well then, I believe that settles things for now, for me at least.  Jesse, is there anything you would like to add?  You may speak.”

“Over twenty-one, asshole,” Jesse said to Michael shortly.  “They have to be over twenty-one.  No more kids.  And I’ll be checking up on you, don’t worry.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed.  He was quiet for a moment.  Then said, “Your Jesse is feisty, I see.”

Walt smiled.  “He certainly is.”

“Allowing me access to him is a great gift,” Michael continued.  “I thank you for it.”

“I don’t send him to you lightly,” Walt said.

“I know Dr. White,” Michael answered.  “And I respect the…considerations behind your decision.”

They looked at each other.

Then Michael turned to Rachel.  “Well I guess this is it, my dear.  Please keep in touch with us, will you?  We all love you.”  He kissed her on the forehead.

“Thank you Michael,” Rachel was crying. 

Michael’s eyes turned to Jesse.  He asked, “Dr. White, may I have your permission to address your Jesse as a person?”

“You may.”

“She’s in your hands now, Mr. Pinkman,” Michael said.  “Take care of her.”

“I’ll do a better job than you, asshole,” Jesse replied.

Michael smiled.  “I look forward to our next meeting,” he said softly.  “And to continuing our…very interesting conversation.”

“I’ll be counting down the days too, dickwad.”

Michael nodded.  “Charming.  You do have a way with words, Mr. Pinkman.  And I remember every one.  My memory is good that way.”

“I’m sure your memory is great,” Jesse said.  “It’s figuring out which words actually _mean_ something, _that’s_ your challenge.”

Michael smiled at him tightly.  “Until November,” he said.

Jesse smiled back.  _“Asshole,”_ he mouthed silently.

Rachel was staring at Jesse, shocked.  She shook her head, meaningfully.  Jesse smiled reassuringly at her.

Michael was sighing.  “Well, if you don’t mind, Dr. White, I’ll let the three of you see yourselves out.  I’m very saddened by Rachel’s departure and would prefer not to prolong our goodbyes any further. Will you please excuse me?“

“Of course.”

Michael kissed Rachel softly on the lips.  “Goodbye my dear,”

“Goodbye Michael,” Rachel whispered.

He left.

Rachel turned to Jesse.  “What you were _thinking?”_ she hissed.  “Provoking Michael like that is the worst thing you could do!  Do you want to end up like this?”  She gestured to her back.

“Don’t worry Rachel, I won’t end up like that,” Jesse said.

Rachel shook her head at him.  Then she turned on Walt.  “And how can you even _think_ of sending Jesse to Michael?” she snapped.  “After everything we talked about!”

“I send Jesse where he’s needed,” Walt answered.  “He knows that and he trusts me.  And if you’re going to be with us, Rachel, I need you to trust me too.”

Rachel looked at Jesse.  He nodded.

She turned back to Walt.  Answered, “Yes Dr. White.”

Walt smiled.  “You might as well call me Walt,” he said.  “Get used to that before I introduce you to my wife.  Skyler has opinions about that kind of thing.”

“Um…Okay,” Rachel replied.  “But doesn’t Jesse—“

“Jesse and I have our own arrangements,” Walt said briefly.  He looked at her.

Rachel looked back.  Then she nodded.  “I understand, Walt.  I respect that.”

“I’m sure you do,” Walt replied.  “And thank you.”

There was a knock at the door.   Jesse opened it.  Robert stood there.

“Your car’s out front Dr. White.  Would you like help with Rachel’s things?”

“Yes please, Robert.  Jesse, are we packed?”

“Yes Mr. White.”

“Excellent.  Jesse, I’d like a quick word with you in private, if I may.”

“Yes Mr. White.”  Jesse followed him to the bedroom.

***

Mr. White closed the door.  Turned to Jesse.

“Where’s the chastity device?” he asked.

Jesse stared at him.  “I packed it.”

“Well get it out.  We’re putting it back on you.”

“Mr. White, please…”

“Argue with me and the dildo is going back into your ass too,” Mr. White said.

Jesse turned silently to the suitcase.  He retrieved the case containing the chastity device.  Handed it to Mr. White.

“Drop your drawers.”

Jesse did so, flushed.   Mr. White reattached the chastity device to Jesse’s cock with brisk efficiency.  But then, rather than locking it on with the small metal padlock, he picked up one of the plastic tabs.  Looped it through the latch between the two halves of the plastic casing and sealed it shut.

He flicked the tab with his finger.  “Until I cut this tab, you'll be wearing this.”

Jesse looked at him, appalled.  “How long will that be?”

“For the foreseeable future.”

“What!”

Mr. White patted Jesse’s cock, now sealed under the plastic case.  “I’ve determined your punishment.  I’m denying you the use of your cock until I think you're worthy again.  The only pleasure you’ll receive for the time being will be through your ass.”

Jesse gasped.  “Mr. White, _please!_   How am I supposed to live wearing this!”

“You’ll manage.”

“No!”

Mr. White looked at him.  “Shall I get out the dildo?”

Jesse was breathing hard.  Mr. White continued to look at him, unspeaking.  Eventually Jesse shook his head.

“Very good,” Mr. White said.  “Now do yourself up.”

Jesse refastened his trousers.  Mr. White looked at his crotch, critically.  “Nope, can’t see anything.  Excellent.  Although I recommend those special shorts for next time.  I’ll get you a few more pairs.”

Jesse was looking down.  “When will you decide I'm worthy again?” he asked.

“When I forgive you for enticing Michael,” Mr. White answered. 

Jesse looked up, upset.  “Mr. White, I didn’t do that on _purpose!_   How was that my fault?”

Mr. White smiled at him.  “You can’t help being a hot little bitch.  I understand that.   And I can’t help being jealous.  So the way I see it…I lock you up permanently in the dungeon, we go our separate ways, or you…accept what you are.   And do your best to make it up to me.  What do you think?”

Jesse glared at him.

Walt watched him, waiting.  Eventually Jesse said, “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to concentrate on being a good little wife,” Walt answered.  “Take care of your bottom, I’ll be using it regularly.  And keep yourself shaven for the time being.  I’m enjoying that.  And Jesse…think of ways to please me.   That should be your primary focus.  Try not to provoke punishment.  Be obedient.”

Jesse closed his eyes, sighed.  Then he looked at Walt again.  “Yes Mr. White.”

Walt kissed him on the forehead.  “That’s my good boy.  Oh, and Jesse-" he took out his keys.  "I'm removing this, for the moment."  He unlocked Jesse's collar carefully and put it in his pocket.

Jesse touched his bare skin, where the collar had been.  "Funny, I'd forgotten I had it on."

Walt curved his hand lightly around the base of Jesse's throat.  "I never forget," he said.

***

They had rejoined Rachel and Robert.

Jesse walked over to the pet carriers.  There were two cages, one containing two cats, and the other containing a black Rottweiler puppy.   The cats were curled up together, one a dark brown stripy cat with green eyes, the other a fluffy, sandy coloured cat with blue eyes.  They stared up at Jesse warily.  The Rottweiler puppy was sitting up, panting.  It caught Jesse’s eye, wagged its tail.  “Where’s the turtle?” Jesse asked.

“He’s in a plastic bag,” Rachel said.

“What’re their names?” Jesse asked, looking at the cats and dog.

“The cats are Harry and Louis,” Rachel said.  “And the puppy is Loki.  And my turtle is Bilbo.”

“Hey there boy,” Jesse said, extending a finger to Loki.  The puppy licked it.  “Where’d you get him?”

“Allyson gave him to me,” Rachel replied.  “She raises Rottweilers.  She’s a dog trainer, when she’s not working here.”

“Uh huh.”

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Walt said.  “Rachel you don’t have to lift anything, we’ll manage.”

“I’ll take Bilbo,” Rachel said.

“Okay.”

Jesse looked at Rachel.  She was wearing a navy blue sweatshirt with UCLA in white letters on the front, and grey sweatpants.  A scuffed up pair of Reeboks.  Her long hair was in a ponytail.  “You look like a student,” he said.

“I _am_ a student,” she replied.  She looked back at Jesse, dressed in his suit pants and jacket, polished brown dress shoes, fine cotton dress shirt open at the throat.  Fluffy blonde hair standing up.  “And _you_ look like a corporate type.  Who’s been up all night, drinking.” 

Jesse grinned.  “Close,” he said.

They eyed each other.  Then started laughing.

Walt rolled his eyes.  “C’mon kids.”  He picked up the two pet carriers and took off down the hall.  Rachel, Jesse and Robert followed behind him, with the rest of Rachel’s things.

There was a small group of people standing in the front hallway, clad in robes, pajamas and slippers.  Walt slowed, wary.

Rachel walked up to them, tears welling in her eyes.  They surrounded her.

“Goodbye Miss Rachel,” Claribel said. 

“Goodbye, Claribel, Sofia, Stan.”  Rachel was crying.  She was kissing their cheeks.  They kissed her back, touching her carefully.  Stan slapped Robert on the back.  “Bye, bro.  Keep in touch.”

Allyson walked up to Rachel.  She was dressed in a black satin robe, her long hair falling down her back.   Her eyes were red.  “Goodbye my dear one.”  She kissed Rachel on the lips.  Rachel leaned into the kiss, closing her eyes.  “Goodbye Allyson,” she whispered.  “I love you,” Allyson said to her.  “Be happy.”  Rachel kissed her again, and turned away.

Jefferson was standing in front of her, neatly clad in robe and slippers.  “I’m sorry Miss Rachel,” he said.  “It wasn’t personal.  No hard feelings?”

Rachel looked down.  “No Jefferson.  It’s okay.”  Jefferson extended his hand to her.  They shook.

Jesse put down the boxes he was carrying.  He walked up to Jefferson and punched him hard in the nose.  Jefferson fell onto the floor, onto his back.  His hand went to his nose, blood welling between his fingers.   He looked up at Jesse from his place on the floor. 

Jesse picked up the boxes again.  “ _That_ was personal,” he said to Jefferson.   Then he stepped over the man’s prone body, heading towards the front door.   Robert hurried to open it.  Walt followed behind them, shaking his head.

They had packed the car.  The cats were yowling from their cage.  Jesse opened the backseat door for Rachel.  She climbed carefully inside.

“You okay?” Jesse asked her.

She smiled at him through tears.  “Yeah.”

Jesse smiled back.  Then leaned over and kissed her lightly.  “Ready to start your new life?”

“Yes.”

Jesse did her seatbelt up for her, closed the car door.  Then he picked up the carrier containing Loki and climbed into the front passenger seat, the carrier on his lap.  Loki licked at his fingers.

Walt had settled into the driver’s seat.  He glanced over.  Spoke over the noise of the cats.  “Everyone good?”

“Yup.”

“Rachel?”

“Yes Walt.”

“Okay then.”  Walt hesitated.  Tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.  Said, “Er…Jesse…before I forget…can you call Skyler when it gets later, tell her what time we’re arriving?”

Jesse grinned at him.  “ _You_ don’t want to call her?”

“I think the information is…better, coming from you.”

“Okay… _Walt.”_

“Don’t get cheeky.”

Jesse laughed. 

They drove off. 


	34. Chapter 34

Walt had finished murmuring into Jesse’s ear.  His face was resting against the side of Jesse’s head, his lips in the soft hair.  Jesse was clasped in his arms, a slim, warm weight, quietly breathing.   The desert breeze brushed Walt’s back and arms and he shivered.  The sun was lower in the sky.  The air was chillier. 

Walt had fallen silent.  He felt Jesse turn his head, glance at him.  “You done?” Jesse asked.

“Yeah.”

“That’s _it?”_

“Yup.”

“Mr. White, you can’t end it like _that.”_

“Why, you’re not happy you’re bringing back a girl?”

“No, that’s cool.  It’s the other stuff.”

Walt didn’t answer.

“Do you really make me go back to that asshole Michael?” Jesse continued.  “And do we end up killing him after all, like you were hinting at?  And how long _do_ you make me wear that sick thing, anyway?”

“…I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know!  You’re the one telling it.”

“That doesn’t mean I have the answers.  At the moment, anyway.”

Jesse looked at him.  “When would you know, then?”

Walt shrugged.  “I don’t know.  We were letting the situation develop, remember?”

“What do you mean, _we?_   _You’re_ the one telling the story.”

“But the story is about _you,_ Jesse.   Don’t you see?”

“…No.”

Walt was quiet.  Then said, “I can’t tell you what’s going to happen.”

Jesse was getting annoyed.  “Okay, well…what _did_ happen then, exactly?”

“What do you mean?”

“Jesus.  Okay.  Like all that shit that you had Michael say to me.  About the `abyss’ and all that.  And that weird shit I said back.  Like I’m some kind of _deranged_ fuck.  What was all that about?  What was the point of _that_ particular conversation?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know!  How can you not know?”

Walt was quiet.

“And then you… _give_ me to that asshole!  I mean, _really?  Why?”_

“…I don’t know.”

“What do you _mean,_ you don’t know!”

“Why are you getting so upset?” Walt asked him.

“Because you’re goddamn _upsetting,_ that’s why!”

“It was just a story.”

Jesse looked at him.  “But why were you telling it?”

Walt looked back, silently.

Then answered.  “Because you asked me to?”  He smiled slightly. 

Jesse didn’t smile back.  Shook his head at him.  “You’re doing it again, man.  Cut it out.”

“Cut what out?”

“Talking circles around me.  Answer me _straight,_ asshole.” 

Walt looked away.   “Maybe I can’t,” he replied, eventually.

Jesse snorted.  “Why am I surprised?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, my ass.”  Jesse started to sit up.  Walt tightened his arms around him, holding him down.  “Stay here.”

“No, man.  Let me up.”  Jesse’s voice was strained.

“No.”  Walt threw a leg over him, keeping him in place.  Jesse started to struggle.  “Mr. White, let me _up,_ man!  Cut it out!”

“No.”  Walt was holding onto him tightly.  He rolled over, pinning Jesse underneath him.  Jesse was trying to buck him off.  Walt felt himself getting hard.  He lay heavily down on top of Jesse and pushed his cock into his groin.  Jesse froze, staring at him.   

Then Jesse’s lips tightened.  He twisted in Walt’s embrace, trying to free himself.  Walt’s grip on him tightened further.  “Mr. White- let me _go!_ Jesus!”

“I don’t think so.”  Walt gazed down at his partner, taking in the furious blue eyes and parted lips.  Then he bent and kissed him strongly, thrusting his tongue into Jesse’s mouth.  Jesse clenched his teeth, turning his face away.  Walt moved his mouth to Jesse’s throat.  He opened his lips against the warm skin and sucked back, drawing Jesse’s skin between his teeth.

“Ouch –shit!” Jesse gasped.  He abruptly stopped moving.  “What’d you do that for!”

“I want you to settle down.” 

Jesse rubbed the spot on his throat.  Glared at Walt.  “That’s going to leave a mark.  People will see that.  Thanks a lot, asshole.”

Walt smiled.  “You can tell anyone who’s curious that it’s from a girl.”

Jesse’s eyes were cold.  “I wish it was.”

Walt stared at him.  Then his own eyes narrowed.  He leaned forward and kissed Jesse again, his lips hard against Jesse’s mouth.  Jesse made a muffled sound, pushed at him.  Walt grabbed his wrists, tightening his grip painfully.  He pressed his thumbs down into the smooth skin over Jesse’s pulse points.

“Ouch, Mr. White!  Stop!”

“You little bitch,” Walt answered tightly.  “Saying that to me.”  He moved his mouth to Jesse’s throat again, nibbling.  Jesse was thrashing around.  Walt felt the brush of Jesse’s cock.  It was hard.  Walt thrust his own cock strongly against him.  Jesse gasped.   

Walt abruptly shoved Jesse’s shirt up, baring his torso.  He tightened the fabric across Jesse’s chest and under his arms like a band, holding him in place.  Then he fastened his mouth on one of Jesse’s nipples, sucking on it hard and biting down. 

“Ouch!”

Walt jabbed his tongue against Jesse’s nipple and bit down again. 

“Ouch!  Shit, Mr. White!”

Walt raised his head, grasped the nipple he’d just bitten between thumb and forefinger, pulling up on it very hard, and twisting it.  Brought his mouth down on Jesse’s other nipple and sucked it into his mouth.  Bit down.

“Fuck!  Mr. White, _stop it!”_   Jesse was twisting underneath him.  Walt released his teeth from Jesse’s nipple.  Then he circled his tongue around it luxuriously, touching the tip of his tongue to its hardened point.  “Oh _God-_ “ Jesse whispered.  His eyes were shut.  His hands had found Walt’s sides.

Walt looked at Jesse’s face.  Then his own hands went to the waistband of Jesse’s sweats.  Started to yank them down.  “I’m fucking you now.”

Jesse’s eyes opened.  “No Mr. White.  You promised you wouldn’t, remember?  And not like this.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Walt said.  “Raise your butt.”

_“No!”_

“Do it, Jesse.”

Jesse glared at him.  “Forget it.”

Walt felt anger suddenly explode inside him, like a bubble bursting in his brain.  He reached out and struck Jesse hard across the face with an open palm, rocking the younger man’s head back.  Then struck him again.

Jesse stared at him, shocked.   Then his eyes narrowed.  “You fuck!”  He raised a hand to strike Walt back.  Walt caught his wrist.  He pinned Jesse’s hand against the quilt.  Then he put his other hand around Jesse’s throat, digging his fingers in.  Jesse thrashed his head, struggling to rise.  Walt tightened his grip on Jesse’s wrist and throat, bearing down.  He felt them give delicately under his weight, his partner’s fine architecture of skin, flesh and bone, vulnerable under his hands.

“Let go of me!”  Jesse was struggling to speak.

“You’ll do as I say!”

“No!”

Walt dug his fingers further into Jesse’s throat, leaning against his windpipe.  “Don’t make me hurt you, Jesse.”

Jesse stilled.  He stared up at Walt.  Then asked, painfully, “You'd really hurt me?  You'd _choke me?_   To make me fuck you?”

“Yes,” Walt said briefly.

Tears were in Jesse’s eyes.  _“Why?”_ he whispered. 

“Because that’s how I’m made,” Walt answered.  “What I want, I take.”  He lowered his face towards his partner.  Jesse was no longer struggling.  He lay still with Walt’s hand on his throat, looking up.  “And I want _you,”_ Walt murmured, gazing into those blue eyes _(that pure blue space, endless)._   _“…Jesse._   And I will fuck you whenever I want to.  _That’s_ our agreement.  Remember?” 

Kissed him.

Jesse was crying.

Walt felt Jesse’s tears against his face as he kissed him.  He raised his head, kissed Jesse’s eyelids.  Touched his tongue to the salt on Jesse’s cheeks.  “I love your tears,” he said softly.

Jesse was breathing raggedly, his eyes fixed on the darkening sky.  Walt kissed his lips again.  He stroked his hands down Jesse’s body, grasped the waistband of his sweatpants.  Gently tugged them down along with his shorts, exposing him.  Jesse made no move to stop him.  Walt kissed his cock, which had softened.  “Let’s take care of this.”  He closed his mouth over Jesse’s cock, stroking his lips and tongue over it.  Felt it start to harden again.

Jesse was crying.  He felt his partner’s warm mouth on him, the pleasure building, but at a distance. 

Mr. White’s hands were on his hips.  “Turn over,” he whispered.

Jesse turned over.  Mr. White’s hands were on his hips, his bottom.  He pulled Jesse’s pants down to his ankles.  Ran his hands back up over Jesse’s legs, taking his time, the warm palms stroking.   Hands on his bottom again.  Then the clink of Mr. White’s belt buckle.  The zipper.   “Spread your legs, Jesse.  Let me in.”

Jesse spread his legs, hampered by the band of clothing around his ankles.  He buried his head in his arms.  He was still crying, the breaths and tears coming out of him in waves, his chest heaving.  A damp patch was forming under his face.  He felt his cock rubbing uncomfortably against the quilt.

Mr. White’s thumbs were on his anus, stretching it painfully.  Then he entered him, pushing in forcefully against the resistance of dry, unlubricated skin.  Jesse gasped.  “Ouch, Mr. White, you’re hurting me.”

“Shh.  It’ll be okay.”  Mr. White’s rumbling voice.  He kept pushing in. 

Jesse was in pain.  Mr. White’s cock was splitting him apart.  He shifted, trying to alleviate the pressure.  Looked over his shoulder.  “Mr. White, please-“

Mr. White put his hand on the back of Jesse’s head, pushing his face down.  “Shh.  Stay still.  I’m almost in.”  He thrust against Jesse hard.

“Ow… _ow!”_ Jesse felt Mr. White’s cock invade him like a weapon, a sharp, tearing pain.  “Mr. White, that fucking hurts!”

Mr. White thrust against him, very hard.  “Stop swearing at me.  Apologize.”  Thrust again, just as forcefully.

“I’m sorry,” Jesse whispered, agonized.  Felt Mr. White lean over him, kiss his neck.  He started moving in Jesse more gently.  Said to him, “You’re so tight, Jesse.  I love it.  I love your tight ass.  I love you.”

Jesse squeezed his eyes shut.  He pressed his forehead into the quilt, willing Mr. White to come, willing this to be over.

***

Mr. White was groaning, bucking into him.  Jesse felt him shuddering.  He came strongly into Jesse’s ass.

***

Mr. White was lying heavily on top of him.  Jesse felt him softening.  He kept still, letting Mr. White lay there.

“I love you,” Mr. White said to him quietly.  “More than anything.”

“…Why?” Jesse asked, eventually.  “Why do you love me so much?”  Felt Mr. White’s lips on his skin.

“Because you’re you,” Mr. White answered.  “You’re just you.  And I love everything about you.”

Tears were slipping from Jesse’s eyes.  “But you hurt me,” he said.  “And you broke your promise to me.  You just _raped me_.”

Felt Mr. White sigh.  “You belong to me.  You gave yourself to me, remember?  Taking what belongs to me isn’t rape.”  He slipped himself out of Jesse.  Jesse heard him doing himself up.  He felt Mr. White’s fluids dripping out of him, cold on his skin.  He didn’t move. 

Heard Mr. White fussing with some items in the cooler.  Then a napkin, swabbing at him gently.  Jesse winced.  “Ouch.”

“Sorry.”  Mr. White was pulling up his pants.  Jesse raised his hips, allowing his former teacher to cover him again.  Mr. White pulled down his shirt, smoothing it over Jesse’s back.

Jesse was crying, helplessly.  “You broke your promise to me you bastard.  Why did you do that?  Why did you think that was _okay?”_

Mr. White lay down beside him and embraced him.  Pulled Jesse against his chest.  Jesse resisted for a moment and then leaned into him, his face in the hollow of Mr. White’s throat.  Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“It wasn’t okay,” Mr. White answered.  His voice was sad.  “I guess I shouldn’t have promised you anything.”

Jesse felt his expression contorting.  A dark grief was breaking inside of him, breaking into him, like a pane of glass shattering under a black howling wind.  A cold, deadly wind.  From the abyss, like in Mr. White’s story.  

He was breathing into Mr. White’s chest in ragged gasps.  “This isn’t going to end well, is it?  Even though you want it to.  But that doesn’t _mean_ anything!  Like everything else in this sick situation.”  His arms were around Mr. White’s waist.

Mr. White stroked his back.  “I don’t know how this is going to end,” he said.  “But I love you Jesse.  And you’re with me.  You’re mine.   _That’s_ got to mean something, right?   You gave yourself to me for a reason.”

Jesse stilled.  He leaned against Mr. White, his breaths slowing.  Eventually he said, coldly.  “I never gave myself to you.   You _took me._ You saw what you wanted and you… _took me,_ like an arrogant, selfish fuck.  And I went along with it.”

Walt pushed him away, separating them slightly to look at Jesse’s face.   Jesse stared back at him unspeaking.

Walt raised his eyebrows.  “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Jesse snorted.  “Sure you are.”

Walt gazed at him thoughtfully.  “But you’re here, aren’t you?” he said.  “You’re not going anywhere.”

Jesse closed his eyes.  “No.”

Walt drew him back against his chest.  Jesse was clinging to him.  “I love you,” Walt said.  “Jesse.”

Jesse felt tears rising again.  He burrowed into Mr. White.  Felt his partner’s arms around him.

“I’m so lost,” he whispered.  “Mr. White.”

“Yes,” Mr. White whispered back.  “But that doesn’t matter.  Because I’ve found you.”

***

They were putting everything back in the trunk of Mr. White’s Aztec.  The sun was setting. 

Jesse glanced at Mr. White.  “You said there was something else you wanted to do?  Before we left?”

Mr. White was looking down.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Just an idea I had.  But it’s a little late now.  We should get back.”

Jesse considered him.   His former teacher looked tired, his shoulders slumped.  Jesse moved a little closer to him.  Put a hand on his arm.  Mr. White looked up.

“Let’s do it,” Jesse said.  “Whatever you had in mind.  I mean, we’re all the way out here, right?  Who knows when we’ll have the chance again?”

Mr. White gazed at him for a moment, then smiled.   “Alright,” he said.  “But don’t laugh.”

Jesse shook his head at him, smiling quizzically.  “Laugh at what?”

Mr. White bent over and retrieved something from the car.  It was a large kite, colourful, with a long yellow tail.

Jesse was laughing.  “What is _that!”_

“You said you wouldn’t laugh.”

“No I didn’t.  You want to fly that, man?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.  Where?”

“Let’s climb that hill over there.”

They clambered up the low hill of red rock, Walt carrying the kite.  They paused at the top, taking in the sight below.

The desert was spread out before them, a vast low plain, stretching out to a far horizon, with hazy mountains in the distance.  The sun was low in the sky, a gleaming gold ball, surrounded by flaming ribbons of cloud.  The desert sands were burnished a dark yellow gold along the path of the sun’s rays, and violet in the shadows.  The sky arched over them, a remote vault of clear blue-violet air.  A cool breeze was blowing.

Walt and Jesse stood silently, looking.  Then Walt handed the kite to Jesse.  “Can you hold it up to the wind?”

“Sure.  Where’d you get this?”

“I’ve had it for years.  Bought it for my son, so we could take it out to the park, you know?  But he was never that interested.  So it’s just been sitting in my garage.  I thought it would be nice, to fly it today.  Sound like fun?”

“Yeah man, I love flying kites.  Or I did when I was a kid, at least.”

“Okay.  Here, I’ll unreel it a bit and then you let it go—that’s it—there!”

Jesse released the kite to the wind, Walt unreeling the line.  The kite gained altitude swiftly, climbing into the sky.  Walt and Jesse watched its progress.

Jesse looked at his partner.  Mr. White was gazing at the kite, now gleaming against the sky like a jewel as it caught the last rays of the sun.   Its tail was a fluttering ribbon of gold.  His partner’s expression was open, the green eyes wide, looking up with quiet wonder.

Watching Mr. White, Jesse felt a tightness in his chest.  Mr. White was looking at the kite like he was climbing with it, like it was _him_ being carried away, into that pure blue air.

Floating, separated from his life, with all its complications.  

From his terrible acts against others, those  _(he raped me/don't think about it)_ murders, which would now mark him irrevocably.And from the terrible, unavoidable confrontation of his own death.

Jesse thought about Mr. White’s earlier words (I don’t want to die).  He saw how Mr. White must see him, must see Jesse, a young man at the start of his life.  A long life, Mr. White wanted for Jesse, and Jesse could see it, suddenly, spread out before him as vast as this desert.  A life with an endless selection of possibilities, of futurities hidden, out there in those waiting sands, as yet unknown.

And Mr. White wanted to be part of that.  

Jesse felt sad for him, suddenly.

Mr. White wanted a whole lifetime with Jesse.  He had said so.

Because Mr. White cared about him.  Adored him.  Loved him.  He had said so, repeatedly.  

And Jesse believed him.

Jesse found he suddenly couldn't look at Mr. White any more.  He turned his eyes away, looked up, looked up at the kite, floating.

He did believe him.  And he believed Mr. White too, saying he wanted Jesse to be happy _(but he hurt me, he hurts me/n_ _o-_ _that's a matter of perspective)._   

But Jesse had travelled a dark road.  And he was still on it.  And Mr. White had joined him there, taking his hand, in the darkness.  

Travelling with him towards an unseen end, hidden in the dark.

_(he will betray me/no. he would never do that)_

***

Jesse closed his eyes.  Thought about Mr. White’s story.  Saw himself against the darkness of his eyelids, the Jesse of Mr. White's dream life.  The perfect companion.  Emptied into his partner and revelling in that, perfectly obedient to Mr. White’s will (well, most of the time, anyway). Unquestioning.  Free from all other considerations _(free)_.  The perfect instrument.  The final, gleaming product of their mutual obsession.

And he thought about Mr. White’s desire to make him so.  That relentless, merciless attention, grinding him down, and Jesse’s yielding to it, abandoned.   

Shattered, destroyed _(broken)._

But also euphoric.  The other side of obsession.  Better than meth.  

The ultimate high.

Jesse opened his eyes.  He looked back at Mr. White, thinking this, and the familiar pleasure washed through his body, washing away the remains of tears.  He felt light, suddenly.  Cleaned out. 

Empty.

His lips parted.

Mr. White glanced at him.  “Here, you want the kite?”  He handed Jesse the reel.

Jesse took it from him.  “Thanks.”

“Sure.”  Mr. White’s eyes were back on the kite, now a tiny diamond, a prism of colour against the violet sky.  Jesse felt it pulling against his grip, dancing in the high winds. 

They watched the kite, silently.

Mr. White put his arm around Jesse’s waist.  Put his lips into Jesse’s hair.  “I love you.”

Jesse turned his face towards his partner, found his mouth.  Kissed him, his tongue slipping between Mr. White’s lips. 

“Mmm.”  Mr. White had moved close to him, put both arms around him.  He was kissing Jesse back, intently.

Jesse leaned into the kiss.  He turned his body, pressing himself against his partner.  His cock was hard.  He rubbed it slowly back and forth against Mr. White’s hip.  Felt Mr. White smile against his mouth.  “Don’t let go of the kite.”

“I won’t.”

They both turned and looked up at it again. 

The kite was caught in a final ray of sun, outlined with a rim of golden fire.  Its tail was a burning brand.

Then, as Walt and Jesse watched, the fire faded, the sun dipped to the horizon.  The kite was a small remote shadow, fluttering against the darkening sky.  Jesse started reeling it in.

Walt kept his arms around Jesse, leaning against him gently.  He felt the fluffy hair tickling his nose.  Turned his face into his partner, breathing him in.  Felt Jesse’s head tilt towards him, even as his eyes stayed on the kite.

The kite was back with them.  Jesse tucked its tail neatly around the crosspieces and handed it to Walt.  “That was great, Mr. White.”

Walt took it from him.  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”  He smiled at his partner.

Jesse gazed at him.  Then said, “So…what’s next?”

“So what’s next is…I’m taking you home,” Walt replied.  He hesitated.

Jesse watched him, waiting.  He smiled slightly.

Walt reached out and lightly rubbed Jesse’s cock. 

“I’m still going to spank you,” he said.

Jesse's eyes lowered briefly.  Then he looked up at Walt through his long lashes, his gaze partially veiled.  “I know,” he answered.

Walt nodded.   “We should get going.”  He turned to make his way down the hill.  “Watch your step.”  Heard Jesse following behind.

“Mr. White…” Jesse’s throaty voice.  “Don’t be too hard on me, okay?”

Walt grinned.  “Don’t worry Jesse.  I won’t be any harder on you than you need.”


	35. Chapter 35

Walt was sitting on the couch in Jesse’s front room. 

Jesse was turned up over his lap, his pants around his knees.   Walt had one hand on Jesse’s waist to hold him steady.   His other hand lightly grasped the wooden hairbrush he’d had Jesse fetch for him as soon as they’d arrived.  He was spanking Jesse briskly on his bare bottom, concentrating the blows primarily on the sit spot, but ensuring coverage to the whole area, including the tops of Jesse’s thighs. 

Jesse was starting to wince and wriggle on Walt’s lap, making soft, delicious sounds of discomfort.  His bottom had turned a charming pink underneath the marks still lingering from the much harder spanking Walt had administered to him a few days ago.

Walt kept spanking him, keeping the impact fairly light –a sting, instead of a smack.  Jesse’s bottom was wriggling.  Walt felt Jesse's hard cock brushing against his lap.  He smiled, paused.  “Had enough?”

“Yes Mr. White.”

Walt spanked him again, a bit harder.  Jesse winced.  “That wasn’t the right answer.  Try again.”

“…only if you think so, Mr. White.”

“Very good.  We’ll give you a few more.  Something to think about.”  Walt started spanking him harder, keeping the blows to the sit spot.  The hairbrush landed on Jesse’s bottom with a smart slapping sound, the flesh quivering under the impact.  Jesse started to gasp with each blow, his breath hissing through clenched teeth.  Walt could feel his chest heaving.

Jesse winced, gasped.  “Mr. White, please—“

Walt spanked him again.  “Are you asking me to stop?”

“…No, but—“  Walt spanked him again, harder.  _“Ow!”_

Jesse moved one hand to protect his bottom from the blows.  Walt grabbed his wrist, containing Jesse’s hand at the small of his back.  “Don’t do that.”  He kept spanking him.

Jesse was starting to cringe away from the smacks of the hairbrush, his bottom quivering.  Walt could see he was biting back his voice, trying to keep quiet.  He was breathing raggedly. 

Walt abruptly tossed the hairbrush to the floor.  Twitched off his glasses.  Grasped Jesse’s shoulders and flipped him over, dragging him up onto the couch.  Jesse protested as his sore bottom scraped over the rough fabric.  Walt leaned into him, found his mouth.  Started kissing him savagely, feeding on Jesse’s mouth, thrusting his tongue between Jesse’s lips.  Pushed his cock against Jesse’s naked groin, rocking against him.

Jesse was moaning, kissing him back helplessly.  His arms circled Walt, clutching, and he pressed his cock up against Walt’s body.   He put his tongue in Walt’s mouth.

Walt raised his head, looked down at Jesse’s face with its tightly closed eyes and intent, inward expression.  The parted lips.  Jesse raised his mouth, pleading.  Walt kissed him again, thoroughly, then let himself slide down the front of Jesse’s body, coming down onto his knees.  He rubbed his face against Jesse’s hard cock, letting his moustache and bristly jaw scrape the silky skin.  Jesse moaned, bucked against him.  Walt took Jesse’s cock between his lips, letting it slide deeply into his mouth.  He curled his tongue around the shaft, stroking and sucking.  Closed the back of his mouth around the soft, satiny glans. 

 _“_ Oh _God..."_  Jesse whispered.  His hands were clutching Walt’s head. 

Walt was sucking strongly and rapidly on Jesse’s cock, feeling it pulse under his tongue.  He reached a hand up, grasped Jesse’s balls firmly around the base, gathering them, and drew Jesse towards him.  Jesse was moaning hoarsely, his head thrown back, abandoned.  He arched his back.  Walt felt him shiver, every muscle in his lean body taut as wire.  He tightened his mouth around him.

Jesse cried out, shuddering, releasing into Walt’s mouth.  Walt felt the warm salty fluid spurt across his tongue.  He swallowed, his mouth feeding on Jesse’s cock, milking it.  Felt Jesse’s hands on his head, stroking, relishing the feel of the bristly, shaven skin.

Jesse was still, silent except for the soft sound of his breaths, slowing.   Walt released his cock and pressed his face into Jesse’s groin, resting there.  Kissed him, pressing his lips against the warm, moist skin.  Jesse’s hands moved to his shoulders.

They were both quiet.  After a moment, Walt looked up.  Jesse was gazing at him.  Walt couldn’t discern his expression.

“You okay?” Walt asked.  He reached up, stroked Jesse’s cheek.  Smiled at him.

Jesse didn’t answer.  He tilted his cheek into Walt’s hand, closing his eyes briefly.  Then looked at him again.  He watched Walt quietly. 

Walt stopped smiling.  He rose with some difficulty from his kneeling position and grasped Jesse’s pants.  “Here, let’s put you back together.”  He started to pull the sweatpants up Jesse’s legs.  Jesse reached down and finished pulling them up himself.  Then he settled back against the couch.  Looked at Walt.

Walt sat up on the couch and pulled Jesse into his arms.  Kissed the top of Jesse’s head, as it rested against his chest.   Jesse was still.  He lay in Walt’s arms passively, a warm silent shape.

Walt held him.  Then said, “Jesse, I want to say something to you.”

Jesse was silent.  But Walt felt him listening.

“I wronged you,” Walt said to him quietly.  “Back in the desert.  I shouldn’t have taken you like that.”

“Why did you?” Jesse asked in a low voice.

“You made me angry,” Walt replied.  “And I wanted to hurt you.”

“You did hurt me,” Jesse said.

“I know,” Walt said.  “And Jesse, I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry about that.  I wish I could take it back.”

“Some things you can’t take back,” Jesse said.

Walt’s face twisted.  “I know,” he said.  “I know that.   I’m just saying I wish I could, that’s all.”

Jesse was silent.   Then said, “I thought you were giving yourself a pass on that.  Being that I _belong to you_ , like you said.”

“I can’t give myself a pass on hurting you,” Walt said.

Jesse was silent.  Then answered, “I thought hurting me was kind of the point.  Don’t you enjoy it?”

Walt smiled briefly.  “Yes…sometimes.”

“And I _want_ to be hurt,” Jesse said.  “Sometimes.”

“I know.”

“So what’s the problem then?”

Walt sighed.  “I don’t want to hurt you like _that._   I’d never want to…damage you.”

“Break me, you mean.”

“That’s right.”

 “But maybe _I_ want that.  Like you said, in your story.”

“No—you don’t Jesse.  You don’t want that.”

“Maybe I do though.  Maybe that’s what you’re here to do.  Like you were saying to me, remember?  I _need_ you to break me down.”

 “You don’t know what you’re saying.  What you’re asking for.”

“Oh really?  And I guess that’s because I’m…` _lost.’_ Right?  Is that what you mean? _”_

“That’s right.”

“But _you_ said being lost was okay.”

“I was wrong.”

“Maybe I like being lost,” Jesse said. 

Walt held Jesse in his arms.  He closed his eyes.

“You were saying in your story I was free,” Jesse continued.  His voice was light.  Expressionless.  “And you know, I get it now.  I kind of feel that way right now.  And you know, it’s okay…You can really do whatever you want with me.  And I’ll take it.  I’m okay with it.”

“But I don’t want you to be lost,” Walt said to him sadly.  “Jesse.  I don’t want that.”

“…I feel so far away from everything, right now,” Jesse continued, as if Walt hadn’t spoken.  “It’s like I’m high,” he said contemplatively.

“Come back,” Walt said.  “Jesse.  Come back to me.”

Jesse was silent.  “What if I don’t want to?” he replied, eventually.  “And what makes you think you have the right to ask?”

Walt hesitated.  Then he put an arm under Jesse’s legs as he sat beside him on the couch.  Gathered him, a bit awkwardly, onto his lap.  Put his arms around Jesse again and kissed him.

“Because I love you,” Walt said to him.  “I’m in love with you,” he whispered.

Jesse didn’t respond immediately.  Then he curled himself up on Walt’s lap.  He put his face into the hollow of Walt’s throat.  “But you can’t promise me anything,” he answered quietly.  His voice was bleak.

“No,” Walt said.  “I wish I could.  But I can’t.”

“You can’t even promise me you won’t…hurt me.  Again,” Jesse whispered.

Walt felt tears rising suddenly, uncontrollable.  He blinked.  His tears were wet against Jesse’s skin. “No,” he said.  “I can’t promise that.”

“And you _need_ to do it,” Jesse said.  “Sometimes.  You know it.”

“I don't want to,” Walt said.  His eyes were closed tightly against Jesse, his warm skin.

Jesse was silent.  He had settled into Walt’s lap.  Walt felt the motion of Jesse’s breath, rising and falling against him. 

“Forgive me,” Walt whispered to him.

***

Walt was sitting back on Jesse’s couch, his head tilted back, his eyes closed.  Jesse’s head was in his lap, his face against Walt’s stomach.  He had an arm loosely curled around Walt’s waist.  Walt was stroking his hair. 

“When’re you leaving?” Jesse asked.

“Not for a bit,” Walt answered.  “I thought I’d make you dinner.  And then put you to bed, before I go.”

“What about your family?  Won’t they wonder where you are?”

“I told my wife I needed some time to myself.  To come to terms with my cancer diagnosis.  She understands.”

“She wouldn’t understand _this.”_

Walt smiled.  “Probably not.”

Jesse was quiet.  Then asked, “What are you making me for dinner?”

Walt grinned.  “I thought I’d fry up a couple of steaks.  And we still have some mushrooms.  I’ll fry those as well.  Cut up an onion.”

“Sounds good.  When’re you going to get started?”

Walt rolled his eyes.  “Now, I guess.  Let me up.”  Jesse raised his head. 

Walt got to his feet, looked down at his partner.  The blue eyes, blinking at him.  Walt bent and kissed him, felt the smooth lips part under his mouth.  “Come to the kitchen with me.  Keep me company.”

“Okay.”  Jesse got himself up.  He followed Walt to the kitchen.

***

It was after dinner.  Walt and Jesse were sprawled together on Jesse’s couch, watching a movie on DVD.   They were both drinking beer.  Jesse was smoking. 

Walt’s hand rested casually on Jesse’s thigh.   He watched the movie idly.  “When’d you get this?”

“The other day.  Picked it up at the drugstore.”

“I didn’t know you liked westerns.”

“Sure man, who doesn’t?  That was my whole thing when I was a kid, you know?  Gunslingers.  Hijacking trains.  Me and my friends played that all the time.”

“Jesse James.”

Jesse laughed.  “Yeah.”

Walt smiled, drank his beer.

***

Jesse was tucked in bed, under the covers.

He’d finished brushing his teeth, washing up.  Walt waited for him in the bedroom.  He’d brought Jesse a glass of water.

Walt undressed Jesse tenderly.   He grasped his partner’s sweatshirt and t-shirt.  “Raise your arms.”  Jesse did.  Walt pulled the shirts over Jesse’s head and laid them aside.  Then embraced and kissed him, running his hands over Jesse’s bare back.  Bent over his feet.  “Lift up.”  He pulled off one sock and then the other. 

Jesse was laughing at him.  “Man you are so… _strange.”_

Walt smiled.  “Where’s your laundry basket?”

“Over there.”  Jesse gestured to a basket in the corner of the room, almost obscured by a mound of clothes.  Walt sighed.  “When was the last time you did any laundry?”

“I dunno, I think _you_ did it, the last time.”

“Right.  Well maybe we’ll put a load on tomorrow, after the meet.”

“Okay.”

Walt tossed the socks in the direction of the rest of the pile.  Then turned back to Jesse.  Pulled down his sweatpants and shorts.  “Step out.”  Jesse did.  Walt ran his hands over Jesse’s legs, and lightly over his bare bottom.  “How are we doing back there?”

“It’s…okay.”

“Sore?”

“Yeah.”

Walt patted him lightly.  “That’s okay.  I like you that way.”

Jesse snorted.  “I know.”

Walt smiled, patted his cock.  Then picked up a pair of red flannel pajama bottoms he’d laid out on the bed.  “Here, put these on.”

Jesse looked at them.  “Where’d you get those?”

“Found them in a drawer.  Forgot you had them?”

“Haven’t seen them since Christmas.”

“Uh huh.”  Walt helped Jesse pull them up over his legs.  Then dressed him in a fresh t-shirt.  Pulled down the covers of the bed.  “In you get.”

Jesse turned towards the bed.  Walt stopped him.  “Wait a moment.”  He pulled Jesse into his arms.  Kissed him again, taking his time.  Jesse put his arms around Walt’s waist.  Leaned into him.

Walt raised his head.  Cupped his hands around Jesse’s face.  Jesse was looking at him.  “You have a beautiful face,” Walt said to him.  “You’re a beautiful person.”

Jesse smiled.  “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”  Walt kissed him again.   Jesse’s eyes closed.  Walt broke the kiss, reluctantly.  “Okay.  In you get now.”

Jesse climbed into the bed.  Walt drew the covers up under his chin.  Stroked his hair.  Jesse looked up at him.  Walt kissed his forehead.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”  Jesse smiled up at him.

Walt looked back.  Then he asked, “Jesse, do you love me?”

Jesse’s smile faded.  He met Walt’s eyes silently.

“Do you?” Walt asked him again.  “Jesse?”

Jesse looked away.  Then he looked back, a raw expression in his eyes.  He didn’t say anything.

Walt considered him.  Jesse was silent.  But his eyes were there, present, staring at Walt.  There was no distance now.

His partner’s naked, direct gaze, more present than anyone else’s.

Walt bent, kissed his eyelids.  Jesse’s eyes closed, then opened again.  He watched Walt silently.  “Never mind,” Walt said to him.  “You don’t have to answer.”

He kissed Jesse again, soft kisses on his partner’s face.  Spoke between the kisses.  “I love you Jesse.  You’re my loved person.  My child.  I love you.”

Jesse’s eyes were glimmering.  His lips parted.  Walt kissed his mouth, slipping his tongue between Jesse’s lips.  Felt Jesse’s mouth opening, yielding.   Walt stood up.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He left.

***

Jesse listened to Mr. White’s car, driving away.  Then he turned onto his side, huddled under the covers.  Tears slipped silently down his face.

He needed to get out of here. 

Don’t wait for the meet tomorrow.  Leave tonight.  Pick up and go.

Take his rainy day fund and go.  This wasn’t going to end well.  He could feel it.

But he knew he wouldn’t.

Because Mr. White needed him.   And Mr. White loved him.

And because he…loved Mr. White.  He loved Mr. White.  Loved him.

But he couldn’t say the words.  Not to Mr. White.  And barely, to himself.

Because Mr. White would hurt him again.  Hurts he couldn’t take back.  Jesse could feel it.

And he knew that, if Mr. White hurt him like that, after _hearing_ Jesse say those words _(I love you)_ … And if Jesse _said_ those words, heard them from his own mouth…and yet was still so hurt-

He would truly break.

His heart would break.

***

Jesse turned onto his back.  He stared up at the ceiling in the dark room.

Mr. White had asked him to stay.  Until the end.  Until _his_ end, when it eventually came.  And Jesse had promised him he would.

And he would.

Because he knew something about himself.  Something had come clear.

He _was_ free.

He could choose to trust.   Could choose to close his eyes, walking forward in the dark.

And he could choose to break.  To leave himself behind, spinning into space…

…to love Mr. White, through whatever was coming.

Because in the end, he would endure.   He would be standing at the end, one way or another. 

Even if it was agony, to stand.

He could choose this, freely.

Jesse knew this about himself.

***

He felt his tears drying up. 

Mr. White was the smartest person Jesse knew, but he wasn’t as smart as he thought he was.  He could make mistakes.  Had made them.   And mistakes could be fatal, given what they were doing.  Not just for him and Jesse, but for his own family, those unknown people who Jesse owed now, to whom he felt a responsibility, now, in an awkward, unwanted fashion.

Mr. White loved Jesse, but he also needed Jesse, more than he realized. 

And Jesse loved him.  

And because he loved him, he would stay.  He would put up with Mr. White and do his best, with this compelling, aggravating man and this inexplicable situation.

Maybe forgiveness was enough to make this work.

And maybe someday he'd tell Mr. White how he felt.  Once they’d proven to each other the worth of their discovery -the once-in-a-lifetime gift, found in each other.  A hidden treasure, at the heart of everything.

And so Jesse would stay.   Waiting for that moment.

He closed his eyes.

***

Walt drove quickly home.  It was late.  Despite his words to Jesse, he _was_ a bit worried about what Skyler would say.  He distracted himself by thinking about what he and Jesse would do tomorrow, after the meet.

Walt felt like going out again.  Maybe to that other pool hall, the one Jesse had mentioned, on Central.  That would be fun.  Jesse was really good.  A lot of fun to play with.  And maybe they could get some bets going.  Hustle a bit, for fun.   Walt smiled.

And afterwards they could pick up some groceries on the way home.  Jesse’s fridge was looking a little bare.  And he’d catch Jesse up on his laundry, like he’d said.  They could spend a few hours together, hanging out.   And plan the next cook too, I mean, they’d be doing _some_ work.   The RV still had to be dealt with.  Walt nodded to himself. 

***

Walt let himself into his house.  The lights were off.  Skyler had gone to bed.

He undressed quietly in their bedroom, climbed into bed beside his wife, who was lying on her side.  She stirred, reached a hand back towards him.  He took her hand, stroked it with his thumb.  “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

“You okay Walt?”

“Uh huh.”

“You were out pretty late.”

“I’m sorry.  Didn’t feel like being around anyone.”

“Including me.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.  Give me time, okay?”

“I’m trying Walt.  How much time do you think you’ll need?”

“I don’t know sweetheart.  I’m trying too.  Okay?”

Skyler sighed.  “Okay Walt.”

Walt put his hand on her belly.  “How’s our little girl?”

“She’s good.  Kicking today.”

“Hello Holly,” Walt whispered.

Skyler put her hand over Walt’s hand.

***

Skyler was sleeping again, her breaths slow and calm.

Walt lay beside her and contemplated Jesse Pinkman. 

His former student.  His partner in this crazy, risky venture.  His lover, so unexpected, and especially at such a time.  His love, his obsession, his orphan child. 

Walt stared blindly upwards at the dark ceiling.

_Jesse._

***

It was the night of December twenty-first.

They were spending Christmas vacation at the desert house.   Had just flown in, that morning.

Jesse, Walt and Skyler had built a big bonfire in the fire pit behind the house.  They’d piled the dry wood high and lit it up.  The fire climbed crackling into the clear dark sky. 

The three of them were sitting close to the fire, huddled together under an old quilt against the freezing night air.  The fire was warm against their faces.

Holly danced around it, hooting.  Loki ran barking at her heels.

Skyler was laughing at her daughter, spinning around.  “Holly, watch it, honey.  Don’t get yourself dizzy.”

“Okay Mummy.”  Holly was jumping, silhouetted in the light of the flames.  “Jesse, look at how high I can go!”

“That’s amazing baby.  You’re a jumping bean.”

“A jumping bean!  A jumping bean!”  Holly punctuated each sentence with a jump.  Jesse laughed.

Holly and Loki circled the fire.  Then eventually flopped down next to the three adults.  Holly crawled under the quilt, nestling between her mother and Jesse.  Loki settled in front of her, putting his head on his paws.

The four people and the dog silently watched the flames.

Holly yawned.  Her head was drooping.  Walt smiled at her.  “It’s pretty late.  I think it’s time someone went to bed.”

“No Daddy, let me stay up some more!”

Skyler stood up.  “No sweetheart, your daddy’s right.  We should get to bed.  We’ve got a big day tomorrow.  Christmas shopping with your Uncle Hank and Aunt Marie.  Remember they wanted to take you to see Santa at the mall?”

Holly hugged her mother’s legs.  “I get to see Santa!”  She looked up.

Skyler smiled down at her.  “That’s right.”  She glanced at her husband and Jesse.  “You coming in too?”

Walt shook his head.  “We’re going to stay out for a bit longer, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s fine.  Kiss them goodnight honey.”

Holly bounced over to her father and Jesse.  “G’night daddy,” she kissed Walt on the cheek.  “G’night Jesse.”  She held out her nose. 

Jesse rubbed his nose against Holly’s nose.  “G’night crumbcakes.  Be good.”

“I’m _always_ good!”

“Yeah, you’re the best.”

“The bestest!”

Jesse smiled, tweaked her nose lightly.  “That’s right.  The bestest girl.”

Holly took her mother’s hand.  Skyler dropped quick kisses onto the foreheads of both men.  “See you in a bit.”  She left, walking with Holly towards the house.  Loki padded after them.

Walt watched them go.  Then he stroked his hand along Jesse’s back.  “Come here.  Put your head in my lap.”

“Okay.”  Jesse shifted, folding the quilt around himself and lying down.  He settled his head into Walt’s lap.  Walt stroked his hair.   Jesse stared into the fire.  Walt looked down at his partner’s quiet face.

“How’s Rachel?” Walt asked him, eventually. 

“She’s good,” Jesse answered.  “She’ll be up the day after tomorrow.  I’m picking her up at the airport.”

“She’s okay after…what happened?”

Jesse shrugged.  “Yeah, she’s fine.  It was a lot to deal with, especially right in the middle of the semester like that, but she managed.  I think she’s been letting Allyson handle most of the details.”

“So Michael made the two of them co-executors of his will?”

Jesse laughed.  “Yeah.”

Walt smiled, shook his head.  “So I guess they’ll be taking care of everything.”

“Yup.  The estate, the scholarships, the whole thing.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Walt was quiet.  Then asked.  “So how do you feel about what happened?”

Jesse shrugged again.  “How should I feel?”

“…No ghosts?” Walt asked him.

“Michael was his own ghost,“  Jesse said.  He stared into the fire.

Walt hesitated.  Then said, “You’re not angry with me?  That I asked you to handle it instead of Lachlan?”

Jesse turned his head, looked up at him.  “If you’d asked Lachlan there’d have been another ghost,” he said.  “And you promised me that wouldn’t happen again.  You kept your promise.  And I was able to keep my promise to Rachel.  So everything worked out.  Like you figured it would, I guess.  The smart guy.”

“I’m not _that_ smart Jesse.  I was nervous.”

“Nervous I couldn’t handle it?”

“No.  Never that.   Nervous you wouldn’t come back to me.  That you wouldn’t forgive me, for what I asked you to do.”

“I understand why you asked,” Jesse said.  “You were keeping your promise to me.  Your original promise, from the beginning.”

“What did I promise, Jesse?  I don’t remember.”

“All those years ago, in the desert,” Jesse said.  “When we were still dealing with Tuco.  Remember?   You promised you’d never ask me to hurt anyone.  Or cause anyone to get hurt.”

“...Oh, that’s right.”

“That I’d never have to do anything I couldn’t bear,” Jesse continued, quietly.

“Yes,” Walt said.  “I remember now.  And was I right, then?  Jesse?”

“Michael found what he was looking for,” Jesse replied.  “And he found it for himself.  I didn’t do anything but watch.”

“And what did you see?”  Walt asked him.  “While you were watching?”

“I saw that…I’d still taken care of business,” Jesse said.  “For both you and me.  I took care of the problem without committing a crime.  Without having to kill.”

“And how did that feel?”

“It felt good.”  Jesse’s voice was light.

“So…you forgive me then?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Jesse said.  “Unless you’re asking me to forgive you for being an asshole.  In which case I’d have to forgive you every minute.”

Walt laughed.  “So you do forgive me then?  For that?”

Jesse turned his face against Walt’s stomach.  Pressed a kiss there.  “I forgive you.  Asshole.”

Walt ran his fingers lightly over Jesse’s lips.  “I love you, Jesse,” he said quietly.  “More than anything.”

Jesse looked up at him.  His eyes were grave.  “I love you too, Mr. White.”

Walt blinked.  Then he breathed in, receiving Jesse’s words.  Then he smiled.  “Don’t look so sad, when you say that.”

 Jesse shook his head.  “I’m not sad,” he said.  “Just thinking.”

“What are you thinking?”

“That every day with you is like a totally new thing.  Like a box you open, to see what’s inside.”

“Like a -gift.”

“Yeah, like that.”

Walt’s smile faded.  “I feel the same way about you,” he said.

Jesse turned his head.  Pressed his face against the bulge of Walt’s cock.  He rubbed his cheek against it like a cat.  Walt’s breath caught.   

Jesse glanced up, smiling softly.

“I love you,” Jesse said.


End file.
